


Always Just Beneath the Dawn

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Abelism, Asexual Character, Asexual Life Partnership, Asexual!Hermann, Asexual!Newt, Basically Lars Gottlieb is a dick, Brief depiction of physical bullying, Discussion of Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Abuse, Family Loss, Gen, Other, Past physical trauma, Post-Movie, Suicide, dysfunctional family dynamics, parental abandonment, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann begins to receive unexpected phone calls from an unexpected family member. What starts as an attempt to rekindle a relationship becomes something else entirely, and Hermann must face both past mistakes and the risk of losing someone he’s just recovered.</p><p>Written for the 2014 Pacific Rim Minibang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is wondering why the hell I haven't just finished The Emotional Heimlich, this is why. I've been working on this beast of a fic. A few notes before we get started. First, this deals with some pretty rough subject matter, hence the numerous tags I've put on this. I tried to be thorough as I can without spoiling the plot, but if you notice anything else in the fic you think I should tag for, then drop me a line! I welcome any and all input. Second, this takes place roughly five years after Pitfall, with Newt and Hermann being in Boston together for about three years. Thirdly, I did re-read and make edits myself, but I did not have a separate beta, so if you notice any typos or inconsistency, again, let me know and I'll be sure to fix it! The same goes for formatting weirdness. Finally, [this fic has a cover and it's beautiful and you should admire its beauty.](http://rritchiearts.tumblr.com/post/87446541776/the-illustrations-i-did-for-the-pacific-rim)Thanks, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

It started with a phone call.

Hermann was sitting at the table in the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly the office space he would have preferred, given his options, but he’d worked in closets and crowded rooms and a lab shared with a noisy biologist. Here, at least, he had easy access to coffee and some degree of silence. Sometimes Newton joined him, but not today. Today he had said something about “getting some sun” and moved to the living room. When Hermann had glanced in there to check up on him, he’d found Newton sprawled in a patch of sunlight on the floor, reading his students’ biology papers.

It had been well over a decade since he’d first spoken to Newton Geiszler. Yet, somehow, Newton still managed to surprise him with how completely ridiculous he could be. “Idiot,” Hermann had said fondly.

Newton had removed one of his ear buds and glanced Hermann’s way. “Something up?”

“Get back to work, Newton.”

Whatever good mood had come over him in those moments vanished quickly. First, one of his students had so badly botched an equation that even Hermann, who had helped with the Mark-I programming and written a predictive model more complicated than this, was having difficulty figuring out where they’d gone wrong. Second, his phone started ringing. It was still in the living room, where he’d left it earlier, and Hermann was far too entangled in the utter disaster of an assignment to be bothered to get up and answer. “Newton!” he called. “Newton, could you answer that?”

“Huh?” was the response.

“I said, _could you see who that is, please?_ ”

“Yeah, sure, hold on.” After a few seconds, Hermann’s phone stopped ringing. “Hi, Doctor Gottlieb’s phone,” said Newton cheerfully. That was always how Newton answered Hermann’s phone, on the (increasingly frequent) occasions that Hermann trusted him to do so. What was unexpected was when Newton, after a slight pause, answered in German. “Uh, _ja, I’ll see if he’s in._ ”

Hermann paused in his grading and glanced at the kitchen door just as Newton walked in. He wasn’t holding the phone, and he looked completely baffled. “Who was it?” Hermann asked.

“...look, don’t freak out or anything, but I’m pretty sure that’s your dad, dude.”

Oh. Father. Hermann straightened up slightly. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, he just wanted to know if you were in.” There was a slight hint of distaste in Newton’s voice as he spoke. He always sounded that way when he spoke about Lars Gottlieb. “Do you want me to tell him you’ve gone out?”

_Yes._ That was what Hermann wanted to say. Ever since his father had offered him a position in the Wall of Life program and Hermann had declined, their relationship had been strained. They’d barely spoken, even after Pitfall and the end of the Kaiju War. Considering their past history, Hermann wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to speak to his father. Especially not when he had a student-induced headache brewing.

But what he said aloud, after a resigned sigh, was, “Give me the phone.”

Newton looked a bit surprised, but didn’t question it. Hermann almost wished he had. Newton’s newfound consideration was the reason their arrangement was working out, but it was also  _such_ a bother sometimes. Hermann couldn’t believe he was even thinking this, but he sometimes missed when Newton would brashly talk him out of things. “I’ll stage an accident if the conversation gets too heated,” Newton whispered as he passed Hermann the phone.

"Please, don't.” Hermann hesitated before answering the phone. “Hello?” he said.

 The voice on the other end was uncharacteristically quiet, but definitely that of Lars Gottlieb. “Hermann.”

 “ _Good afternoon, Father._ ” Hermann’s voice was stiff and formal as he spoke. “ _How are you?_ ”

" _I'm well. I, ah..._ "

The sudden hesitation was entirely unlike his father, as was the brief pause that followed. “ _I read your paper on the structure of the Breach_ _,_ ” said Lars.

Now it was Hermann’s turn to hesitate. “Oh.” He glanced back at Newton, who was still standing in the doorway with a questioning look on his face. Hermann could only give him a confused look in return. “ _What did you think of it?_ ”

“ _It was illuminating._ ” Normally, Hermann would have viewed the comment as dismissive. Today, it sounded as though his father wanted to say something else, but was holding back. “ _How is, ah, Doctor Geiszler?_ ”

Hermann glanced Newton’s way again. “ _He’s fine._ ” Newton’s face grew baffled as he gestured to himself and mouthed _is he asking about me?_ Hermann waved him off and looked away again. “ _How is mother?_ ”

“ _She is well._ ”

“ _And the others?_ ” Hermann knew, more or less, how his siblings were. He was more curious to see if Lars knew.

“ _Bastien has come down to visit. Dietrich, Karla...I am not sure._ ”

 The admission felt apologetic. _Apologetic_ , when it should have been dismissive again. Hermann was beginning to wonder if something was wrong. “ _I believe Dietrich is starting to settle down in Moscow._ ” Dietrich wasn’t in contact terribly often. Busy or not, he wasn’t the most communicative person on the planet. “ _Karla’s getting settled at the new hospital. She says she’s doing well._ ”

 “ _Ah, is that what…_ ” The conversation halted when another voice came from the other end of the phone, muffled by distance. “ _Hold on, Hermann._ ”

There was the clunk of the phone being put down and the sound of an argument. Ah, there was a tone of voice Hermann was used to hearing from his father: irritated and confrontational. When Lars picked up the phone again, he still sounded annoyed. “ _I have to go. Apologies for leaving so abruptly._ ”

“ _No, it’s…_ ”

“ _I will call again some other time. Good afternoon, Hermann._ ”

His father hung up before Hermann could respond.

“...okay, what was that all about?” Newton asked warily.

“I’m not sure,” said Hermann honestly.

“Was he asking about me? Dude, I thought he hated me. Every time I see him, he treats me like I’m some gum he’s stepped in.”

“He did.” Hermann put down his phone to stall for time. What he was about to say was completely preposterous; he couldn’t believe he was considering it. “I believe he just...wanted to talk to me.” Yes, it sounded even more ridiculous when he said it out loud. “He said he was going to call again, I can’t think of any reason why…” Hermann glanced at the phone again and shook his head. “No, there’s no other reason why he would call. He said he read my paper on the Breach.”

 “ _What?!_ ”

“And that it was ‘illuminating’.”

 “In like a sarcastic way, or…”

 "No, he sounded like he meant it.”

 Silence fell over the kitchen. “Dude, this is fucking weird,” said Newt finally.

 Leave it to Newton to sum up a complicated situation so simply and crudely.

 

**++++++++++**

 

Hermann’s earliest memory of his father was hazy, filtered through decades of hindsight. He was five, perhaps a bit younger. He was sprawled out on the driveway, bleeding from scrapes on both his knees. Perhaps Dietrich had pushed him (not out of malice, not at this point in their lives, but out of ignorance of his own strength). Perhaps he had tripped. That he couldn’t remember. What he remembered were two strong hands picking him up and sitting him down on the front steps. His knees were bandaged, quickly and expertly, before those same hands patted him on the shoulder and a gruff voice told him to go play again. “ _You need to spend more time outside, Hermann._ ”

As he hobbled away, his father only watched, silent and still, like the statues in the churchyard he sometimes walked past with mother. While he knew, objectively, that the memory was likely inaccurate, he always felt that part was accurate. It had seemed very much like his father.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermann did not often receive phone calls. Most of the people he knew recognized his distaste for phone conversations and chose instead to use email, or send him a text if it was urgent. As a result, he usually left his cell phone in his office before class, not bothering to turn it off unless the battery was low.

Today, he had fallen behind schedule (not Newton’s fault, for once, there had been a delay on the U-Bahn), and left his phone in his pocket. And, in a moment of oversight that he could only blame on his frustration and desire to arrive to class on time,  _left the damn thing on._

When he first heard the buzzing, he thought it was one of his students. He was just gearing up for a lecture about technology in the classroom when he realized it was coming from his pocket. “I…” He hoped he wasn’t blushing. The situation was undignified enough on its own. “My apologies.” Hermann turned it off without checking the number and turned back to his lesson.  _Don’t comment, pretend it didn’t happen. Finish the lecture. You can worry about your mystery caller once the lecture is over._

He doubted it was Newton. He knew Hermann’s class schedule, and one would think he would know better than to call during one of Hermann’s lectures. But then, he was also used to Hermann’s phone being in his office, not his pocket where the whole bloody class could hear it go off. Hermann tried to tell himself that this wasn’t Newton’s fault, if it was Newton calling, but it was difficult to feel anything but annoyance.

As soon as the lecture was done and the students had filed out, Hermann checked his phone. The number wasn’t Newton’s. It wasn’t even from the same country. It was a number from Germany.

_What?_

Then Hermann remembered the previous night, and his father’s promise to call again. It was roughly five o’clock in Germany, so it was possible that he had called. He hadn’t left a message, so it wasn’t terribly urgent. _I don’t have to call him back,_ Hermann thought as he pocketed his phone. _Why should I call him back?_

On the other hand, perhaps this conversation would reveal something about why Lars was calling him in the first place.

Hermann considered the matter very carefully on the walk back to his office. His office hours didn’t start until 12:45. In theory, he had time for a quick conversation. But what was there to keep the conversation cordial for that time? _The last conversation was cordial. There’s nothing to suggest that this one won’t be as well._

Hermann sighed. _Ah, to hell with it._

He made sure his office door was securely closed and locked before sitting down and calling the number back. The phone rang and rang. For a moment, Hermann thought that he’d been mistaken, that it was a wrong number or that his father wasn’t interested in talking. Just as he was about to hang up, someone answered. “ _Hello?_ ”

Hermann’s train of thought ground to a halt at the sound of his father’s voice. Fortunately, his sense of propriety regarding phone conversations took over. “ _Good afternoon, Father,_ ” he said, distantly aware of how formal he sounded again. “ _I’m sorry for not answering your call. I was in the middle of a lecture._ ”

“ _A lecture...ah. Yes. You’re a professor now._ ” The sentence lacked judgment or disapproval, which was shocking considering how...dismissive Lars had been about the idea when Hermann first mentioned it. “ _They don’t have you teaching freshmen, I hope?_ ”

“ _No, it’s an upper-level class. Teaching freshmen is Newton’s job._ ”

Lars sighed. There was some of the disapproval Hermann had been expecting. “ _What a surprise. I hope I didn’t interrupt your class?_ ”

Hermann bit back a biting comeback. _It’s not his fault you had your phone in your pocket. There’s no need to start a fight._ “ _No,_ ” he lied. “ _You didn’t._ ” He paused, trying to think of a good topic. “ _We’re coming up on finals, but I’m not worried about the class. Most of the class,_ ” he amended.

“Do you have a few r _otten apples?_ ”

“ _Not quite. I think they bit off more than they could chew._ ”

“ _You’re not going easy on them, are you?_ ”

Hermann shook his head instinctively. “ _No. They should have known better than to take a class they couldn’t handle._ ” He was willing to give help to students who asked for it, but wasn’t exactly coddling the class.

The comment drew a laugh from his father. The sound was so unexpected that whatever Hermann had planned on saying next flew out of his mind. “ _That’s very true_ ,” said Lars. “ _Well, you should return to your work. I will call again later. Is the evening better?_ ”

“ _Yes, the evening is better_ ,” said Hermann. “ _I will speak to you then._ ”

“ _Good afternoon, Hermann._ ”

“ _Good afternoon._ ”

Lars hung up first. For a moment, Hermann could only stare at the phone. The sound of his father’s laugh still rung in his ears.

 

**++++++++++**

 

His entire life, Hermann knew that certain things were expected of him. He must be quiet. He must be intelligent. He must be respectful. And, above all, he must excel at something. The list of somethings he could excel at was somewhat limited by what his father considered “acceptable”.

Hermann had always shown signs of a high intellect and an interest in numbers. It was a good start. His additional interest in programming and robotics were equally promising, the former more so than the latter at the time. The extent of Hermann’s interest in robotics was something he kept a secret. Making machines that could be used in factories or for the military was reasonably acceptable. Trying to make something that could pass the Turing test—something Hermann had dreamed of doing from the time he learned what the Turing test was—was not acceptable. It was frivolous. So he didn’t mention it.

He didn’t mention his dreams to fly, either. He only brought them up when he got glasses in middle school. He hadn’t wanted them, because if he needed glasses, that meant he couldn’t be a pilot. The look on father’s face said that Hermann would never be a pilot anyway.

When Hermann went to University, he wanted to study mathematics. He studied engineering, because he knew his father would prefer it. It was still a stimulating experience, but not what he would have liked. He minored in mathematics and studied the more abstract and theoretical branches of the science in his spare time. His father tolerated this, as long as Hermann continued to behave himself.

He could have gone into any engineering field. Some would have been preferable, granted, but engineering was acceptable. Then came K-Day, and not long after, the start of the Jaeger program. At first, Hermann’s interest in the program had been uninfluenced by his father. But then Lars caught wind of Hermann’s unofficial tweaks of the Jaeger programming. Soon, he was involved in the programming of the Mark-1s. This project was more than acceptable, and Hermann excelled. One could even say he thrived. Thrived, perhaps, a little too well. Hermann’s work in the Jaeger program was intellectually stimulating, challenging, and important. He was helping to save lives. Even as he moved from programming to research, throwing himself into studying the Breach’s structure and activities, he knew that what he was doing was of worth beyond his father’s opinion. He was helping people. That mattered more to him that he realized it would.

He had roots in the program when the course of the war began to change. Those roots would be tested when the Wall of Life program began to rise in favor among the politicians and the bureaucrats of the world. Lars Gottlieb changed his allegiances. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps.

Hermann did not.


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment was quiet. It was a Saturday, and Newton had wandered off to the corner store for ice cream “to soothe my finals pain”. Hermann had rolled his eyes at his partner’s melodramatics and kept working on his grading.

Lars hadn’t called since last Wednesday when he interrupted Hermann’s class. In a way, Hermann expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the slight edge of disappointment he felt. _I’m not disappointed he didn’t call_ , he tried to tell himself as he stood to stretch his legs a bit. _I’m disappointed because he broke his word. Not necessarily surprised, but disappointed. This is normal._ He was fairly certain it was normal. His relationship with his father was anything _but_. Comparing it to the societal conventions of what counted as normal would be an exercise in futility.

As he pondered this, Hermann heard his phone start buzzing again. It was probably Newton. He could already predict how the conversation would go. He would answer, Newton would ask what kind of ice cream Hermann wanted, or say that he’d bought the entire second season of some show Hermann had never seen then insist they watch it… “Hello?”

“Hermann?”

That wasn’t Newton’s voice. At first, Hermann wasn’t sure he recognized who it was, but then the person spoke again: “ _Hello, Hermann?_ ”

It was Lars. “I…” Hermann was baffled. Was it really his father? The person on the other end of the line sounded so quiet, almost weakened. “ _Father? Is everything all right?_ ”

“ _I’m fine, Hermann. Damned headache._ ” The hint of frustration in his father’s voice was almost a relief. It sounded more like him than that exhaustion did. “ _I meant to call sooner._ ”

“ _It’s all right, I…_ ” Had assumed you weren’t going to call? No, he couldn’t say that. “ _Assumed you were busy._ ”

Lars grunted in a way that implied he didn’t believe that explanation for a second. But he didn’t press the matter. “ _Busy is one way to put it. I’m surprised your…friend didn’t answer._ ”

Friend. Not partner, not roommate, not even _Newton._ Yes, that was a typical “Lars Gottlieb” way to put it. " _Newton is out_ ," said Hermann. For a moment, he wished Newton was there. A distraction from the slowly building resentment in his gut would be welcome. " _He'll probably be back soon._ "

“ _I see. Is...everything all right, with the both of you?_ ”

Hermann frowned. That wasn’t like Lars, not the question, and especially not the slight hint of concern he thought he heard in his father’s voice (though that could have been the exhaustion, or perhaps Hermann was so tired he was imagining the emotion where there was none). “ _Everything is fine,_ ” said Hermann slowly.

“ _Are you certain? I know that the two of you…_ ”

 _No. No, you don’t know anything about either of us._ “ _Father, it’s been four years,_ ” said Hermann tersely. “ _If things had been going poorly, the relationship would not be what it is. He’s been…_ ” Several adjectives flitted through Hermann’s head, each discarded for being far too emotional for this conversation. “ _He’s different than you think._ ”

“ _Different, eh?_ ” Lars grunted. For a second, Hermann thought he heard the creaking of bedsprings. “ _How so?_ ”

Hermann glanced toward the door. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Newt to come in and save him, or if he was making sure the man wasn’t about to burst in and intrude. “ _He’s…_ ” For a brief second, he considered asking why Lars suddenly cared so much. “ _Very passionate about what he does. Even if he comes across as boorish. I know his students respect him greatly, and…_ ”

“ _Has he been treating you well?_ ”

Hermann sputtered. “ _I…yes._ ” Agitation surged through him like an electrical current. “ _He has. Why?_ ”

“ _I was only concerned…_ ”

“ _You never expressed any concern before now._ ” The accusation came out in a testy snap. “ _If you were worried about him being bad for me, why bring it up four years into the relationship?_ ”

There was silence on the other end. Hermann wasn’t sure what he felt now--more agitation? Guilt? Why should he feel guilty? This entire conversation was completely ridiculous, entirely uncalled for, and so out of character that he was starting to wonder if he was speaking to an imposter. “ _Are you well?_ ” he asked finally.

It was Lars’s turn to sound disgruntled. “ _Yes, I am perfectly well. Am I not allowed to be concerned for my son?_ ”

“ _You sound tired…_ ”

“ _I’ve had a trying week._ ”

Hermann frowned again. “ _You’ve never expressed this much concern about my relationships. Why is Bastien staying with you? Did something happen with Johanna?_ ”

“ _No. They’re fine._ ”

Silence settled over the conversation. Hermann grappled with his frustration. Nothing about this made any sense, from the topic to the fact that it was the third time Lars had called him in a week.. That was more than they’d spoken in the past five years. “ _Father, if something’s wrong…_ ”

The door banged open suddenly. “Dude, oh my god, guess what?!” came Newton’s voice from the front.

 _And where were you five minutes ago?!_ “Newton, I’m on the phone…!”

“ _Is that him?_ ” asked Lars.

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _I’ll let you go, then. Good afternoon, Hermann._ ” The other line went silent. Hermann had never been more relieved to hear a dial tone in his life.

Newton burst into the kitchen not long after. “ _Sour Warheads_ ,” he squeaked excitedly. “Dude, I didn’t even know they still made these…” He paused. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” said Hermann quickly as he set aside his phone. “All right, yes, but it was just…” Should he tell him? There wasn’t any reason not to, not really. “Father called again.”

Newton looked startled. “Whhhhhy?” he asked, drawing the word out in his confusion.

“He just wanted to talk.”

“Hermann, if something’s wrong…”

“Nothing’s wrong. At least, he said nothing’s wrong.” Hermann fiddled with his cane. “And he hasn’t asked me for anything or been _terribly_ confrontational.”

“Just regular-grade Lars Gottlieb confrontational, then?”

“He asked about you.”

“Oh, god.” Newton rolled his eyes and started unpacking his shopping bag. Two cartons of ice cream and several bags of candy were piled onto the counter. “Did you tell him that I still don’t like him?”

“No, but I’m sure he knows. He was more concerned about our relationship than you, specifically.”

“Oh, _gooooood_ ,” Newton groaned. “What the hell is this? Is he going to put me on the sofa and clean his gun collection in my presence? It’s been _four years!_ ” Newt put one carton of ice cream away and opened the other. “That one’s yours, by the way.”

“That’s what I told him, more or less.” Hermann stepped aside so Newton could retrieve a spoon. “And why do I get my own carton?”

“Because I’m not using a bowl for this, and I figured you didn’t want my germs.” Newton perched on the counter, and, true to his word, started eating ice cream directly out of the carton. “Seriously, it’s like he _expects_ me to fuck things up. Rude.”

Hermann shook his head and retrieved a bowl from the cabinet. “I think it was more our seeming incompatibility that concerned him. Not that he has any right to judge that, or be concerned now of all times.”

“Damn straight.” Newton grinned. “We’re doing fine. Right?”

“Of course.” The carton in the freezer was plain chocolate. Newton knew that was Hermann’s favorite. “Do you think that’s why he called me?”

“Because he was gearing up to make sure that I wasn’t keeping you locked in the basement or otherwise ruining your life?” Newton shrugged. “‘S possible. I mean, I don’t pretend to know how your dad thinks, but if he never calls again, that’s probably why.”

Hermann nodded. “You’re right.” He kept his eyes on the ice cream as he spooned it into the bowl. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

He could feel Newton’s concerned gaze on him. To this day, Hermann couldn’t tell if Newton had always been this perceptive, or if it was a result of their Drift and the many active measures both of them had taken to make their relationship less argumentative. For a moment, Hermann expected Newton to ask if he was all right. But, instead, Newton held up one of the bags of candy and asked, “How many do you dare me to stick in my mouth at once?”

 _Trying to lighten the mood._ Hermann couldn’t hold back a smile. _How very Newtonian._

 

**++++++++++**

 

There were many ways Hermann was the odd one out in his family. One way, in particular, was simultaneously acknowledged but never discussed, understood and yet so frequently misinterpreted.

Dietrich had his share of flings, but never anything long-term. Karla had a few boyfriends, and a pregnancy scare that had almost resulted in her being thrown out of the house. Bastien married young and had four children. Hermann, for most of his life, had no one.

He’d never been interested, not to the extent that most were interested. Relationships? Perhaps, with the right person, though most of the people in his age group were either uninteresting or uninterested. Sexual relations? Even the idea seemed foreign to him. Sex was something that other people had, never something he could picture himself involved in. There was a brief period where he wondered if there was something wrong with him, but some research revealed that this was not the case.

Asexual. It was almost a relief to see the word.

Discovering this about himself didn’t hurt his relationship prospects, mostly because his relationship prospects were already virtually nonexistant. There was only a small pool of interested parties, and Hermann rarely found any of them appealing on a personal level. He preferred to spend time studying. Numbers made more sense than people.

His family did not know. Once it became clear that the question “So, Hermann, is there a woman in your life?” would have a consistent answer of “No”, Mother and Father stopped asking. Then Bastien’s firstborn came into the picture, and Hermann was allowed to live his isolated life in peace. That was what they wanted...or, more accurately, what Lars Gottlieb had wanted. Someone had to make sure the family name continued, old-fashioned as that notion was. Once Bastien filled that slot, everyone was free to do what they wanted without scrutiny.

Then came Pitfall. Then came linking his mind with that of a Kaiju fetus and Newton Geiszler. Then came a somewhat awkward conversation a few weeks later. At the time, Newton was digging around in some piece of Otachi while Hermann filed a report. “So, uh...it doesn’t do anything for you, either?” Newton asked abruptly.

“What doesn’t, Newton?”

“You know…” Rather than saying it aloud, Newton made a lewd gesture. Hermann was been too startled by the roundabout confession to call him out on it. “That. Not really on the table for you, either?”

“...no, it’s not...you’re…?”

Newton smiled, wide and bright and relieved. “Yeah.”

In hindsight, that was one of the first indications that things between them could work. Time passed, the two of them grew closer, and “things” became something a great deal more permanent. The problem arose when Hermann realized that he would have to tell his family, both about the asexuality and the relationship (despite it being a simultaneously complex and simple thing that _he_ didn’t even have a word for, except perhaps “he’s with me”). Despite this concern, he knew he had to tell them himself. It would be better than having them find out about it secondhand.

He regretted the decision immediately. By the time he was done fully explaining asexuality to both Dietrich and Bastien (the former had been skeptical, the latter confused but supportive), even the modicum of knowledge Karla had possessed on the matter was a relief. Hermann wasn’t sure he could handle telling yet another person that no, he was not sexually attracted to Newton, please do not assume that is the case. Especially not when one of those people was his father.

In the end, he didn’t have to worry. The next time he saw his father after Pitfall, it was at a PPDC sponsored event. Newton was there with him. “Here,” Newton said, passing Hermann his untouched drink. “You’re going to need this more than I do right now.”

Hermann, at first, took the drink as a gesture of solidarity in light of the fact that they were at a party, with Lars Gottlieb was in attendance, which was essentially a personalized layer of hell for someone like Hermann. But then Newton spoke again: “Also, if you love me, you won’t murder me when I’m done.”

“I...what? Newton…!”

It was too late. Newton was already walking away, and walking right towards Hermann’s father. Hermann followed, after a brief moment of panic and concern as to what exactly Newton was about to do. The fact that Newton lead Lars to a more private corner of the room only made the situation more concerning. Neither party seemed to notice Hermann follow them. “What’s this about, Doctor Geiszler?” his father sighed. “If you’re going to attack me personally for the Wall of Life program…”

“Nah, I’m willing to let that slide for now,” Newton said cheerfully. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Hermann? Specifically, we’re going to Boston together, and I was hoping I could get your okay with that.”

 _Oh,_ God, _no._

Hermann wasn’t able to see Newton’s expression from where he stood, but he could see his father’s very clearly. Confused, irritated, then resigned. “Ah,” Lars had said simply. “So you two are…”

_Oh, God, no._

“Sharing living space and emotional support, not doing anything that involves clothing coming off. We’re not really into that?” Hermann wasn’t sure if what he was feeling in that moment was relief that someone else was explaining this or an intense desire to sink into the floor. “Doesn’t really matter, in the end, I just wanted to clear up that misconception before you went to...get a shotgun or something. Look, I don’t really need your approval, or your permission, for that matter? I just think it’s important for parents to support their kids, and I’d really like it if you backed him up on this. I think he deserves that much.”

Newton’s tone was, for once, not been dripping with fake sweetness or forced politeness. He was completely earnest and serious. In contrast, Lars’ face was unreadable. His tone, when he finally spoke, was as dismissive as it always was the few times he’d spoken to Newton. “As you said, you don’t need my approval or permission. And neither does Hermann. Whom he chooses to… _associate_ with is none of my concern. And I doubt he cares about whether or not I support him.”

Newton’s body language immediately became confrontational. Hermann chose that point to intervene. He stepped forward and rested a hand on Newton’s shoulder. “Don’t...Newton, please. It’s not worth it.” He remembered Newt’s expression: shocked, bordering on outraged, lips parted in preparation for a scathing rant. “It’s fine.”

“He…”

“ _I’m surprised I’m not hearing about this from you, Hermann,_ ” Lars interjected. “ _What exactly do you plan on doing in Boston with Doctor Geiszler?_ ”

Something in his father’s tone broke through the wall of exhaustion Hermann had built. He straightened up. “ _Well, we have a very lovely apartment not too far from MIT,_ ” he said calmly. “ _Newton is getting his old position back, and I was considering another doctorate, perhaps moving into teaching myself. I’m sure someone will see my credentials and decide I’m worth hiring._ ” He smiled thinly. “ _Goodnight, Father._ ”

They left the party not long after. There wasn’t much point in staying, not with Lars glaring at the both of them from his side of the room and Newton growing increasingly agitated. At least the biologist had the decency to wait until they were in the elevator before he exploded. “Can you believe the nerve of that guy?!” he shrieked. “Of all the pompous, asshole ways to respond…”

Any other night, Hermann would have been willing to listen to Newton vent. Not that night. Not with his head ringing from the confrontation and the exhaustion setting in. Before Newt could continue with the rant, Hermann shifted his body weight so he was leaning against Newton slightly and rested his cheek against Newton’s head. Newt fell silent immediately. “...I should’ve warned you, shouldn’t I?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, you should have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven.” Newton held out a hand questioningly; Hermann took it. “Just let him think what he wants from now on. It doesn’t matter.”

The look on Newton’s face said he didn’t believe that. But he didn’t pressed the matter. Hermann was grateful for that, because he wasn’t sure he believed it, either.


	4. Chapter 4

Lars called again exactly seven days later. And the first thing he did was apologize.

“ _You’re an adult, you know what’s best for you,_ ” he said calmly. He sounded tired again, but it was late in Germany. “ _And you don’t need me intruding._ ”

Hermann didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t recall ever hearing his father admit to having been wrong about a situation. Even if it was just a begrudging apology, given as a way of soothing but lacking any sincerity, it was almost entirely out of character. Lars didn’t believe in begrudging apologies, either. “ _Well._ ” Hermann cleared his throat. “ _You were concerned, I understand._ ” _I’m just not sure I want your concern._ “ _But Newton and I have been doing well, so you don’t have to worry._ ”

“ _Good. I’m glad to hear it._ ”

The fact that the sentiment sounded genuine was the most baffling thing to happen to Hermann in moths. Possibly in years.

“ _Yes, it’s an unusual arrangement, but…_ ” Hermann’s phone buzzed next to his ear; he winced and pulled it away. “ _Hold on._ ”

A brief glimpse confirmed that the text he’d received wasn’t from Newton--it was from Dietrich, of all people. He was probably asking about Hermann’s birthday again. Hermann sighed and turned his attention back to the call. “ _Apologies. It was Dietrich._ ”

“ _Dietrich?_ ”

“ _Yes. He’s been trying to get me to come to Moscow once the semester is over. He’s of the opinion that I need to ‘get out and see the world outside those military institutions’._ ” Hermann rolled his eyes, though his father couldn’t see the gesture. “ _I’d prefer to take the time off, though I’m sure if Newton caught wind of it, he’d want to go._ ”

“ _I see. Dietrich is in Moscow?_ ”

“ _Yes. I’m not sure what he’s doing there, probably odd jobs again. But he seems happy._ ”

There was silence on the other end. If Lars had been in the room, Hermann would have been able to guess what was behind that silence. Disapproval, no doubt. Lars had high expectations for his children, and Hermann doubted that a life of odd jobs and little stability was consiered considered “acceptable”. “ _It’s curious,_ ” he said, “ _Bastien said he didn’t know where Dietirch was, but I was under the impression they were in contact._ ”

That _was_ curious. “ _I assume that Dietrich still feels a need to protect Bastien,_ ” he confessed. “ _He is the eldest. It took him quite some time to tell me._ ”

Lars grunted. He sounded faintly unimpressed. “ _Perhaps he didn’t want members of his family to know what he’s been up to._ ”

Hermann had considered this possibility himself, but discarded the idea. “ _If you mean to imply that Dietrich feels shame for his life, I don’t think Dietrich has felt shame in decades._ ”

The observation drew a dry chuckle from his father. It was just as unexpected a sound as it had been the first time. “ _True. And what of Karla? You said she had switched hospitals._ ”

“ _Yes, she moved to a hospital in Stuttgart. She works in the emergency room. It’s very trying work, apparently, but she prefers it to the old hospital._ ”

“ _What was wrong with Munich?_ ” Hermann detected a faintly defensive hint in his father’s voice. He suspected he knew why; Karla had mentioned she felt that her father had some hand in getting her the position.

“ _Nothing, really. She just...feels she is doing better work there._ ” And no doubt relief that she was finally out from under her father’s wing, though Hermann did not express this sentiment aloud. “ _She says she feels like she is helping people._ ”

Hermann expected another dismissive noise from his father. _Sentiment,_ Lars should have said. _Pointless._ But instead, after a slight pause, he heard, “ _Well...there is something to that, I suppose._ ”

Hermann was stunned silent.

The conversation wound down not long after, with his father saying he needed rest and wishing Hermann a good night. Hermann said good night as well, though he was thinking something else entirely.

_Who are you, and what have you done with my father?_

 

**++++++++++**

 

Hermann was the third of four Gottlieb children. Dietrich was eldest, Karla the second-eldest, and Bastien the youngest. Despite the age difference (two years between each sibling, give or take), Hermann did remember a time when the four of them got along. This was mostly when they were younger, before the family expectations began to hang over them.

They caught on very quickly--do what Father wants, Father pays more attention to you. Nice as it was having Mother’s attention (she gave them as much of it as she could, whenever her emotional levels permitted), having Father’s attention was...well, something else entirely. Hermann had once drunkenly compared it to having a trophy, or a high score. You could look at the rest of the family and say that you’d held Father’s attention for a full three weeks because of something you’d done, that you’d basked in his approval for one or two months after some particularly good grades or a science project that had gone right. Newton, who had been more sleep deprived than drunk but still experiencing some affects from the alcohol he had consumed, had stared at Hermann intently and announced, “Dude, that’s fucked up.”

Indeed it was, as Newton had so bluntly put it, fucked up. Especially when Hermann considered how it affected his relationship with his siblings. He wasn’t sure at what point Karla and Dietrich had started viewing him less as their younger brother and more as a rival. He just knew the shift in sentiment had occurred. And he had viewed them similarly, to some extent. It was less an active desire to one-up them and more a sense of bitter resentment whenever they were the “favorite”. He had never felt that way about Bastien. Hermann didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because Bastien had always been the antithesis of the youngest sibling stereotype--never the center of attention, always quiet and willing to help, and never an annoyance. He always thought that what Hermann was doing was “cool”, regardless of what it actually was. Perhaps the attention he’d given Hermann, the sense that what he was doing was of some worth, had fed Hermann’s need for validation and counteracted any desire on his part to view Bastien as a rival. Perhaps he had wanted to spare his brother from the cycle of resentment. He didn’t know.

As for his other siblings, their attitudes shifted as they aged. Karla became less focused on Lars’ attention and more focused on her studies. As for Dietrich, well, Hermann still hadn’t figured out what had happened with his brother. Something in his treatment of the others shifted, becoming almost genuine frustration, bordering on hatred. Then those emotions shifted to Lars Gottlieb. There had been a brief, but memorable rebellious teenage phase, then he turned eighteen and left the house.

Hermann didn’t hear from him until he was stationed in one of the Russian Shatterdomes. Coincidentally, his brother happened to be doing some freelance work with the equipment, and they ran into each other during one of Hermann’s strolls. It was Dietrich who asked him if he wanted to go get lunch. Of course, when you were in a remote Shatterdome like that one, “going to get lunch” meant “sitting at the same cafeteria table”. But it was the longest conversation they’d had since Hermann was fourteen.

“ _How’s the old man?_ ” Dietrich asked at some point. “ _He dead yet?_ ”

Hermann shook his head in reply. “ _No, he’s still working with the program._ ”

“ _Of course he is._ ” Hermann remembered how much older his brother had looked to him at the time—older and more hardened. Even his voice had roughened. He also looked more like father than ever, even with the beard (in hindsight, the beard and long hair were probably grown in an attempt to look _less_ like Lars). “ _The old bat’s never going to die, is he?_ ” Dietrich rolled his eyes. “ _But, hey, look at you. What did you say you were doing here?_ ”

“ _Primarily, I’ve been studying the structure of the breach,_ ” Hermann replied. “ _Though I’ve also been doing some work on the programming for the Jaegers, whenever I can. They’re still using Mark Is here. There are a few programming glitches that have popped up with some of the other Jaegers, and I know they…_ ” Hermann stopped himself mid-explanation at the look on Dietrich’s face. “ _What?_ ”

His brother was smiling. There was more warmth in his voice than Hermann could remember hearing in years. “ _Important to the program, eh? I always knew you had it in you, Manni._ ”

“ _Don’t…_ ” Hermann’s embarrassment at the nickname was wiped away by his confusion over his brother’s reaction. Was this some attempt at reaching out, clumsy and blunt though it was? Even after all those years of not speaking? “ _Thank you?_ ”

Dietrich chuckled, fell silent for a moment, and asked, “ _Have you spoken to Karla lately?_ ” Hermann shook his head; he hadn’t heard much from his sister since she started medical school. “ _You should call her,_ ” Dietrich had encouraged. “ _She’d like that._ ”

It was odd to think that often insensitive Dietrich had been the one to initiate the re-connecting of the Gottlieb children. But Hermann was glad he’d tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to place bets on what Dietrich is actually up to in Russia and how illegal it might be. Because I have no freaking clue.


	5. Chapter 5

Lars called again the next day. The conversation was brief, cut short by one of Hermann’s students arriving early to his office with a panicked look on her face. It wasn’t a real loss. The conversation hadn’t been about anything. It was just small talk. Hermann considered telling Newton about the call, but he didn’t.

He re-considered telling Newton when the conversations continued, but he refrained, because aside from their frequency, there wasn’t anything _terribly_ special about them. Every other day, during Hermann’s office hours, Lars would call, and they would talk. The conversations were, at first, brief and awkward. Neither one of them was terribly good at small talk, and there wasn’t much for them to discuss. Lars claimed that, for once, he wasn’t doing much; the most exciting thing happening to Hermann was the upcoming final. More often than not, they talked about how Mother was doing, or the weather. So it went for three or four painful conversations, until one day after the usual greetings, Lars said, “ _I never asked how your doctorate studies went._ ”

Hermann hadn’t expected that. He’d achieved the second phD a year ago, roughly, with nary a comment or congratulation from his father. Part of him was sure that Lars had _forgotten_ he’d intended to pursue the degree. “ _It…went well,_ ” said Hermann carefully. “ _Returning to research was a bit daunting at first, but I managed._ ”

“ _Did you complete your studies at MIT?_ ”

“ _Yes. They remembered the last time I contacted them. I hadn’t expected…_ ”

“ _Last time?_ ”

Oh. Hermann had forgotten. His first dissertation proposal had been a secret. “ _I, ah, had submitted a proposal for a dissertation on abstract mathematics to MIT before K-Day,_ ” he admitted. “ _Obviously, the arrival of the Kaiju changed my plans._ ”

“ _I…wasn’t aware_ ,” said Lars. He didn’t sound reprimanding or disapproving. Just surprised.

“ _Well…_ ” Hermann took a risk. “ _You weren’t meant to be, so I suppose I did it properly._ ”

The comment drew a chuckle from Lars. Hermann smiled, despite himself.

The conversations became a bit more lively from there, even though Hermann supplied most of the content. He talked about academia in America, about Boston, about getting his green card and all the trouble that had come from that process. His father listened, asked the odd question, and not much else. Hermann found that he didn’t care. Having his father just _listen_ and _care_ about what was being said was rare enough. To have that was…something.

It took them several more conversations to discuss Newton again. Hermann brought the biologist up himself, as a way of testing the waters. “ _He was very supportive when I was working on my dissertation,_ ” Hermann said. “ _Well, supportive in his own way._ ”

“ _And what way is that?_ ” asked Lars.

“ _Leaving tequila shots on my desk for me and doing the dishes without being asked, for starters._ ”

There was a pause on the other end, then an amused huff. “ _I was about to ask if you were joking,_ ” said Lars. “ _But based on what little I know about Doctor Geiszler…_ ”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “ _Oh, believe me, that’s not the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done. He’s…_ ” How best to put it? “ _A good man, truly, but I still don’t understand his behavior half the time._ ”

Lars hummed faintly, a noise that Hermann recognized as his _thinking_ noise. “ _He’s a puzzle,_ ” Lars said slowly. “ _Is that why the two of you…?_ ”

It was the first time Lars had acknowledged the two of them as some kind of unit. “ _In part,_ ” said Hermann. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. There were some things about their relationship that his father could _never_ know about (namely, the Drift), and other things Hermann couldn’t explain because he didn’t have words for them. Maybe he never would. “ _It’s_ _complicated, but when we’re together, I…_ ” He paused. “ _I feel as though he sharpens my mind. If that makes sense._ ”

Though his father was on the other side of an ocean, Hermann could picture him as clearly as though he were standing right in front of him—sitting down, elbows braced against his knees, fingers tented in front of his lips, eyes contemplative. “ _Yes,_ ” he said. “ _Yes. I believe I understand._ ”

Hermann doubted his father actually understood, not fully. But he was making an effort to understand, which was more than he’d done in years.

If Hermann was honest with himself, he’d admit that he genuinely appreciated the effort.

If Hermann was honest with himself, he’d admit that he was beginning to get used to this.

 

**++++++++++**

 

He built his first robot at age seven. It was a tottering thing, made from the scraps he’d begged and scrounged from various sources, but it moved and functioned as it was meant to. He showed it to mother, who in turn said he should show his father. Hermann had been hesitant—it seemed like so small a thing to show him. But, after some coaxing, he brought the robot to his father.

Lars watched it move around the room, picked it up to examine it, and smiled. “ _This is very good, Hermann,_ ” he told him. “ _This is very good._ ”

Hermann basked in the glow of those compliments for weeks.

When he was twelve, the bullying worsened. It had been bad enough before—he was both the smallest and youngest in his class, and the verbal assaults were an almost daily occurrence. His father knew about it; he’d seen him crying after a particularly trying day, and told him to ignore them. “ _They’re insignificant,_ ” he’d said. “ _They’re words from little men, and you’re letting them hold power over you. You’re better than that. Stop crying, it’s unbecoming._ ”

His father’s lack of sympathy was the reason why, when the words finally turned to blows, Hermann lied and said he’d fallen on his way home. This went on for two weeks. The physical attacks didn’t occur daily, but they occurred with enough frequency that Hermann had to get _creative_ about hiding the wounds or making excuses for them. Father didn’t know. Mother didn’t know. His older siblings didn’t know, because they would only fret or get involved. He didn’t want that.

Bastien knew. In fact, telling Bastien was the only mistake Hermann made in his plot to keep his father in the dark. This is because, when Hermann came home one day with bruising on his stomach that made walking difficult, Bastien told Father.

Lars had entered Hermann’s room without knocking; Bastien was on his heels, looking frightened. “ _I’m sorry, Hermann, I didn’t…_ ”

“ _Show me,_ ” said Father. It was a command, sharp as a knife, and Hermann winced away from it. “ _Show. Me._ ”

He had no choice. He could only remove his shirt, showing bruises both old and new that mottled his torso. His father examined them carefully, his expression darkening with each bruise he took in. “ _All of them?_ ” he said.

Hermann nodded. “ _I’m sorry._ ” His voice shook as he spoke. “ _I’m sorry, I…_ ”

“ _Who did this to you?_ ”

“ _I’m sorry, I didn’t…_ ”

“ _Hermann,_ who did this to you?”

Hermann told him. His father left the room after. Bastien apologized over and over, but Hermann didn’t hear him. He was confused, almost frightened. He hadn’t been lectured. He didn’t know why. He was kept from school for the next two days. When he returned, all of the culprits had been suspended.

He was seventeen when the school van was hit by another driver. He had to spend the rest of the semester in the hospital. He remembered the look on his mother’s face when she saw him, and the look on his father’s face. Mother was in tears. Father was blank and silent.

He remembered waking up in pain, his back and leg feeling like they were twisting out of place, too agonized to move and begging the dark figure by his bed to make it stop.  He remembered someone calling for his nurse in a voice that he was sure was his father’s. He remembered more shots and pills and someone staying even after things had settled down, to sit on the edge of his bed and watch him until he fell asleep.

He thought he remembered that same voice, uncharacteristically rough with emotion, saying only, “ _I’m sorry._ ”


	6. Chapter 6

It was Saturday, and Hermann was up to his neck in quizzes. The only solace he had was the knowledge that it was almost over and after this he would be done for the summer. Of course, when he was roughly halfway through the stack, his phone started ringing. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, dude, do you want me to answer that?” Newton asked as he peered into the kitchen.

“Yes, please,” Hermann replied. He was right in the middle of this quiz. He couldn’t stop now. It was a relief to distantly hear Newton answer the phone, if only because it meant the ringing stopped. He dove back into the quiz grading, expecting Newt to bring the phone over at any minute.

It took Newton longer than it should have to either identify the caller or come back to tell Hermann it was a wrong number.

Then Hermann remembered that his father was going to call again today.

He almost knocked the chair over and forgot his cane as he scrambled towards where he’d left his phone. He could hear Newton’s voice, muffled by the closed door. He was speaking in German, and he sounded confrontational. _Newton, whatever you are doing, stop,_ please…

“ _…what you’re playing at. Look, don’t…hey! You have no right._ ”

_Damn it, Newton._

Hermann opened the door. There was Newton, pacing back and forth. He was too busy shouting into Hermann’s phone to notice Hermann’s entrance. “ _I don’t_ care _that he’s your son, and I have a_ hard fucking time _believing that you…_ ”

“ _Newton!_ ” Hermann scrambled forward and snatched his phone from Newton. “What are you doing?!”

“Hermann…hey!” Newton was caught off-guard by Hermann’s attack, and didn’t put up much resistance when Hermann took his phone back. “I…”

Hermann ignored him and turned his attention to the phone. “ _Father…?_ ”

Too late. The line had gone dead.

Now, Hermann could be angry.

“What the _hell_ was that?!” he shouted as he turned back around to face Newton.

“What the hell was _that?!_ ” Newton shouted back. “What the hell are _you_ doing?! Dude, how long has he been calling you? How long have you been _answering_ him?!”

“That’s none of your business, Newton. What did you say to him?”

“I told him to fuck off.”

“ _Why?!_ ”

“What do you mean _why?!_ ” Newton’s face grew more and more confused with every word. “After everything he put you through, _someone_ should tell him to fuck off! And, and then he thinks he can just, what, _waltz_ on back into your life like nothing _happened?!_ Like he didn’t…”

“That’s none. Of your. _Concern_ , Newton!” snapped Hermann, punctuating Newton’s name with warning point. “Whom I chose to talk to in my spare time is _my_ choice. You cannot stop me…”

“Why are you letting him walk all over you, dude?”

“I’m not…”

“Yes, you are! This is exactly what you’re doing!” Newton’s gestures grew more frantic as he spoke. “Why are you talking to him? Give me one good reason why he deserves your attention.”

“He’s my father.”

“ _So?!_ ”

“So if it were _your_ father, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“Hey, my dad didn’t ditch me just because I didn’t do what he wanted me to. My dad didn’t stop talking to me for doing the right thing. My _dad_ didn’t support that _piece of shit on the Pacific_ …”

“Enough with the goddamn _wall, Newton!_ ” Hermann shouted. His frustration was beginning to bubble over, and as much as he wanted to stalk closer to Newton, he didn’t trust his legs to carry him forward. Not in the emotional state he was in, and not with his cane propped up in the kitchen like it was. “That doesn’t _matter!_ ”

“You’re right. You’re totally right.” Newton had stopped screaming, but that was somehow worse. The absolutely serious look on his face and the cold fury in his voice made the entire conversation that much more infuriating. “You know what matters? The fact that he made you feel like a piece of shit your _entire_ life, and now you’re letting him get away with it.”

Hermann felt his jaw clench. “You don’t know anything about that,” he said quietly.

“Dude, I _saw_ it!” Newton gestured between their foreheads. “You fucking _told_ me!”

He had. They’d shared minds, however briefly, and the faint memories of Hermann’s childhood had stuck. Newton had asked questions, eventually, and Hermann had told him about all of it. But now, for whatever reason, none of that mattered. What mattered was that his father had called and Newton had the _audacity_ to take that from him.

“I’m not letting him do anything.” Hermann finally took a step forward. “This matter is _my_ affair, not yours, and you had _no. Right._ To do what you did.” He looked Newton in the eyes, trying to ignore the confusion and concern that he saw there. “And if you’d paid attention to _anything_ you saw in that Drift, you’d know…”

Silence fell over the two of them. Hermann was sure that if he could step back and examine the situation as a third party, he would see the same stubborn expression on both of their faces, the same defiant stance, and the same unwillingness to back down.

This was going nowhere.

“I’m going out.” Hermann turned and started for the door. The absence of his cane was becoming more and more noticeable. He wasn’t sure walking would be the best option, but he couldn’t stay in this apartment for a second longer. “Do try not to scare off any more of my family members while I’m gone.”

Newton didn’t reply. Nor did he try to stop Hermann from leaving at any point. Some might take that as a slight, but Hermann was relieved. The fight would have only escalated if Newton had tried to stop him. Angry as he was, Hermann didn’t want a serious fight. It had been some time since the two of them had been involved in a serious argument. What had once been routine was now almost unthinkable.

He grabbed his cane and coat and left the apartment. It had been chilly outside lately, spring and summer somewhat stymied by winter’s stubborn grip. Hermann picked a direction and started walking. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind; he just needed to get out of the apartment and clear his head. He recited the decimals of pi as he went. He stopped walking when he couldn’t remember the next one. By that time, he’d walked so far and with such determination that his legs were beginning to ache. _You should sit down,_ said the sensible part of him. _You’re going to wear yourself out, no sense in that._

There was a Starbucks nearby, and inside it was warm. He ordered a hot chocolate and sat by the window. As he waited for it to cool and began drinking it, Hermann finally allowed himself to consider what Newton had said to him.

_Waltz back in._ That was one way to put it. Hermann had discussed many things with his father over the phone calls they’d shared, but aside from the debate over Newton, they had yet to discuss any of the unsavory aspects of their relationship. For instance, there was the fact that they hadn’t spoken in any serious capacity in years now, or the fact that Lars had, more or less, severed most contact when Hermann chose to stay with the PPDC. Newton was right. He might not have the full picture, as he had never _lived_ it, but Hermann was old enough to acknowledge that his childhood had been less than desirable. He was never hit, he was never directly abused, but he was never made to feel that he was doing something right, either. He remembered disapproval more strongly than he remembered anything positive. He remembered relief when he went to university, but he also remembered that he had chosen a different degree than what he’d wanted because he knew father would approve of that one more. He remembered being _afraid_ of Lars, of his judgment and…

Hermann rubbed his eyes. _Why_ am _I talking to him?_ he asked himself. _After everything, I thought I was never going to speak to him again. Am I really that eager for his approval? What is_ wrong _with me?_

The hot chocolate tasted too sweet. And suddenly, he wanted to be home again.

Hermann took a cab back. When he arrived at the apartment, he was surprised to find it spotless. Not just _neat_ , as it usually was—despite attempts made by both Hermann and, shockingly, Newton to keep the space as clutter-free as possible, there were always odds and ends lying about that either one of them had put down, then forgotten to put away due to some absentmindedness. No, now everything was exactly where it should be, carefully organized, the tables were dusted, the floor was swept…

_Oh dear._

Newton was the sort of man who became very energetic when he was emotional. Sometimes he could exercise that pent-up drive by venting, just talking and talking until the energy and emotion had bled out of him. Other times, he had to do something physical. Anger-cleaning tended to be his go-to. _If I’m going to be this pissed off, I might as well do something productive, right?_

Hermann knew the best thing to do under normal circumstances was to sit on the edge of the tub or at the dining room table, watch him clean, and offer a sympathetic ear until the task was done and Newton had worn himself out. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. Now he would have to apologize.

Newton was sweeping in the kitchen when Hermann found him. He hadn’t noticed Hermann’s approach, and almost jumped out of his skin when he happened to catch a glimpse of him. “ _Christ…_ hey.” Newton removed the earbuds from his ear. Hermann could faintly make out whatever it was Newton had been listening to. Most likely Fall Out Boy (a completely ridiculous choice, but very _Newtonian_ ). “Are you…”

“I took the cab back, don’t worry.” Hermann remained standing, despite the still-lingering ache in his legs. The good news was Newt seemed to have expended enough energy to calm down. That would make what was coming easier to handle. “Newton, I…”

“No, can I start? Because I was kind of shitty, okay, I was a _lot_ shitty…” Newton glanced at the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. And I shouldn’t have said that you were letting him walk all over you, I just…I got frustrated, and…”

“Newton, it’s forgiven.” Hermann tried to catch his partner’s gaze. “I was going to say that you were right. He doesn’t have any right to just re-enter my life without acknowledging our past history.” He sighed. “And…I shouldn’t let him.”

Newton finally looked up. “…I was wrong about one thing.” He twirled the broom between his hands. “He’s your dad, and that does matter. Doesn’t mean that he gets to walk all over you, but I’d…I’d want to talk to my dad, too, even with all the shit that happened. He’s family.”

Hermann nodded. It was good to hear what he’d been feeling and telling himself for weeks spoken aloud, but that didn’t make the faintly queasy feeling that the entire relationship was still _wrong_ go away. “He is my family,” Hermann said quietly. “But this is the first time in over forty years he’s made an effort to act that way. Which is…”

“Fucked up?”

“I was going to say _unacceptable,_ but that is apt as well.” Hermann couldn’t help but smile; Newton smiled back. “You didn’t have any right to hijack my phone calls, but I understand you had my best interests at heart.”

“Still a dick move. I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Also forgiven.” Newton propped the broom up against the counter and held out his arms. “Makeup hug?”

Hermann rolled his eyes, but accepted the embrace. Newton’s hug was both warm and protective, and for a moment, Hermann was thankful for that. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted softly. “I don’t want him to think the past few decades are just forgotten, but I don’t want to lose this, either.”

“I get it.” Newton pulled away and shrugged. One of his hands remained on Hermann’s upper arm. “Honestly, man, I don’t know what to do either. But you’ll think of something.”

Hermann nodded. He didn’t tell Newton that he probably had a great deal more faith in him than he did in himself. There was no need to ruin the moment.

_What am I going to do?_

 

**++++++++++**

 

The PPDC was under intense amounts of scrutiny. Already funding was being pulled and funneled into the increasingly more popular Wall of Life program. The cuts had hit K-Science particularly hard. In his rage, Newton had cleaned the entire lab and taken the broom handle to some bottles he’d found in the garbage. Broken the broom, too. Hermann was being careful to give him a wide berth.

Hermann had been bracing himself for the call for weeks. Ever since Lars left the program, actually. Hermann had considered calling his father preemptively, just to get it over with. He didn’t, because he wasn’t sure what to say. Even when his father finally called, he had no idea what to say.

“ _There is still space in the program for you,_ ” Lars said. The video feed was a bit fuzzy, but Hermann could still make out the imposing shape of his father’s shoulders, his motions as he adjusted his glasses. “ _You have knowledge of the Breach, you have your engineering degree…_ ”

  
“ _Yes, but_ _..._ ”

“ _The Jaeger program is dying, Hermann. You must know this._ ” Hermann glanced around the lab as his father spoke. They were getting by for now, but how much longer until Newton was cobbling things together from scrap for reasons _other_ than just to see if it would work? How long until they couldn’t keep the equipment Hermann required for his Breach predictions running? How long until the thread keeping them upright snapped? “ _There are other options for you, Hermann. Better options._ ”

“ _Father._ ” Hermann swallowed nervously. “ _I…understand that you are trying to help me. But I don’t think that I…_ ”

“ _What?_ ” Lars rolled his eyes. “ _If this is about the people still clinging to a dying idea, then you should know better. You do know better, Hermann. Let them have their foolish dream, but don’t allow yourself to be dragged down by it._ ”

That was the proverbial straw. Hermann sat up a bit straighter and glared at the video feed. “Father,” he snapped, and this time, Lars listened. “ _My hesitation about the Wall of Life program has little to do with the people in the PPDC and_ everything _to do with the fact that the_ Wall _is a foolish dream. There is nothing to suggest that such a structure would work against the Kaiju forever. They are_ evolving, _they are_ growing _…_ ” He could see the reflections of Newt’s sample containers in computer screen. “ _No matter what we build, they will find a way to surpass it. And even if we could keep them out, then what? Do we just let the ocean fill up with these monsters? What about the people living along the coast, what happens to them if the wall fails?_ ”

 “ _It’s a risk…_ ”

“ _That_ you’re _willing to take because it isn’t_ your life you’re gambling!” Hermann didn’t know when he’d started shouting. He also realized he didn’t care. It felt _good_ to shout, to get this off his chest and force his father to listen. “ _This program is risking the lives of_ millions, unnecessarily so, _and I_ refuse _to be a part of that. The Jaeger program has saved lives, kept the conflict away from people who would otherwise be at risk, and the fact that you would abandon that to_ protect yourself _from public opinion is_ appalling.” The shocked look on his father’s face quickly turned to anger. Hermann returned the glare with one of his own. “ _Sir,_ ” he added in afterthought.

He had seen his father angry. He had seen his father’s disapproval. He had never seen it directed at him, at least not in this amount. He almost wilted under it, but Hermann forced himself to sit up straight and maintain eye contact. “ _You’re throwing your life away, Hermann,_ ” said his father. “ _For what? So your conscience will remain clean?_ ”

“ _At least I can say that I have one,_ ” said Hermann. He marveled at how level his voice was. “ _I’m staying with the Jaeger Program. I appreciate your offer, but I cannot accept it._ ”

Lars’ clenched his jaw. “ _Very well._ ” The note of formality in his voice stung more than disapproval or anger would have, but Hermann tried not to let it show. “ _Good afternoon, Hermann._ ”

The video feed cut itself off. Hermann stared at the blank screen. The realization of what he’d just done sank in slowly. He had the feeling that if Newton had been there to witness the event, he would have been cheering Hermann on.

This realization did not make him feel any better. If anything, it made Hermann feel worse.

He would not speak to his father again until after Pitfall, over two years later.


	7. Chapter 7

His father called again three more times. Each time, Hermann meant to bring the matter up. It was a simple thing in concept. He just had to ask why his father was calling, why he felt this sudden need to be in contact with Hermann after years of silence and implied disapproval. He just had to give _some_ indication that he was aware of the strangeness of his father’s re-appearance in his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Every time he tried, the conversation wound down or he couldn’t think of the words. So he let the matter be. It was the path of least resistance, and he was _very_ ashamed of himself for taking it.

But at the same time, to hear his father say “Good afternoon, Hermann” with some measure of respect or possibly affection felt good. He hated himself for thinking that as well. He was a grown man, not some attention starved animal willing to take whatever scraps he could take. He’d risen above this. He thought he had. So why was he still talking to Father like this?

He was still dwelling on the matter after the third call. Finals were finally over and the scores were submitted. He wasn’t needed for now, and he didn’t have much else to do. Newton had gone out, and Hermann was trying to read. Trying, and failing for the most part. He couldn’t focus on the words.

_What do I do?_

His phone rang. His heart leapt, and his gut twisted in dread. He checked the number before answering. It was a German number, but not his father’s. “Hello?” said Hermann as he answered.

The voice on the other end was immediately recognizable as his younger brother Bastien's. “ _Hello, Hermann._ ” Hermann could picture the smile on his brother’s face as he spoke. “ _How are you?_ ”

“ _I’m…_ ” _Confused, uncertain, and possibly having some sort of crisis._ “ _Well. How are you?_ ”

“ _Ah…tired,_ ” Bastien confessed. “ _These past few months have been trying._ ”

Hermann frowned. “ _I’m sorry to hear that._ ” He meant to ask what exactly was wrong—something job-related, marriage-related, children-related—but instead, he said, “ _Father’s been calling me._ ”

Dietrich didn’t know; Karla didn’t know. It was a relief to tell _someone_ in the family.

“ _He…he did mention that,_ ” said Bastien. “ _What do you talk about?_ ”

_“Nothing important, just nonsense that’s been going on here…this and that. I don’t know. The entire affair has been confusing._ ” Hermann rubbed his eyes. “ _I don’t know why he would contact me like this. We weren’t speaking at_  all _a few months ago, and now he wants to know how I’m doing and ask about Newton. It doesn’t make any sense._ ”

Bastien was silent for a moment. Hermann got the impression his younger brother had just nodded in agreement. “ _I’ve been worried about him,_ ” Bastien admitted. “ _Some days he’s moodier than others. I expect him to take it better on the good days. But he’s been talking about going off chemotherapy more and more, and…_ ”

Hermann didn’t register the rest of the sentence. His brain slammed to a halt at that one word. Chemotherapy. _Chemotherapy._ It repeated itself over and over. It wasn’t a proper word even before the repetition stripped it of meaning. It made no sense within the context of what Bastien was saying because it couldn’t be true. His father couldn’t be on chemotherapy. His father couldn’t have…

“ _Hermann? Hermann, are you still there?"_

 

“ _Father has cancer?_ ”

The question came out in a quiet, hoarse tone that almost bordered on a whisper. Hermann immediately regretted asking the question. Saying it aloud made the idea more plausible. It made it real when it couldn’t be. Father couldn’t be sick, not like that.

“ _Yes…yes, he does._ ” Bastien sounded confused. “ _He’s already been through surgery to remove some of the tumor, but it’s malignant, and they couldn’t remove all of it…_ ”

“ _Where?_ ”

“ _His brain. They said it was partially affecting his motor cortex. I can't remember where else it was._ ”

His father had a brain tumor. His father had been suffering for _brain cancer_ this entire time, and he hadn’t said a word.

“ _You didn’t know?_ ” said Bastien quietly. Hermann’s silence was all the answer he needed. “ _Oh, god, I just…I assumed he’d told you, I didn’t…_ ”

“ _Has he been talking to Dietrich or Karla?_ ” Hermann asked.

“ _Karla, sometimes, Dietrich, not really, I think they’ve spoken a few times…_ ”

“ _They probably don’t know._ ” Hermann stood and started for his room. “ _So you are staying with him?_ ” _He didn’t lie to me about that?_

“ _Sort of. He’s been staying with me while he undergoes treatment._ ” Hermann’s numb confusion turned to anger at the confession. Bastien had been dealing with this alone for _months_ , all because Lars was too prideful to tell his children that he had a _dangerous and partially inoperable tumor_. “ _Hermann, I’m sorry._ ”

“ _Bastien, you have nothing to be sorry for. Look, I’m going to come over…_ ”

“ _What?! From Boston?!_ ”

“ _Yes, from Boston, because I don’t want you looking after him alone._ ” He would also love nothing more than to slap Lars. How  _dare_ he do this to them? “ _The semester is over. I can be there tomorrow._ ”

“ _Are you sure?_ ”

“ _I’m sure. I’ll call you once I’ve bought my ticket and I know when the flight arrives. And no, you won’t be able to talk me out of this, so don’t bother trying._ ”

“ _All right. What about Newt?_ ”

Hermann, who had been in the process of trying to find his suitcase, froze. He hadn’t considered that. His mind had been trapped in the knowledge that his father had cancer, and unable to consider anything else until it was directly pointed out to him. “ _I’ll speak to him about it,_ ” he said. “ _Don’t worry, that’s my concern. I’ll call you later, all right?_ ”

“ _All right._ ”

Fortunately for Hermann, Newton returned home not too long after Hermann hung up. “Okay, _whoa_ , are we taking a vacation I didn’t know about?” said Newton when he saw Hermann packing. “Or did you accidentally get involved with some Kaiju parts dealers and now you have to run for it?”

“My father has cancer.”

The confession slipped from Hermann’s lips without any real forethought. For a second, Newton looked like someone had slapped him. “What?!” he said finally. “Since _when?!_ ”

“Over a year. It’s a brain tumor…”

“ _Jesus Christ._ ”

“I just found out through Bastien.”

“Son of a-” Newton visibly reconsidered finishing that thought. “Hermann, I’m so sorry.” He glanced at the suitcase. “You’re going over there, aren’t you?”

“I have to. Bastien’s been looking after him alone this entire time. It’s not right.”

“And you want to smack daddy dearest in the face in person for keeping his _brain tumor_ a secret, right?”

Hermann laughed, a barking sound that was entirely without humor. He realized that he felt sick. “That would be marvelous, actually.” Yes, he had to sit down. The bed felt too soft. The entire situation felt so unreal that for a second, he expected Newton to do something ridiculous like morph into a Kaiju or start floating. “Nothing would make me happier.”

The frustration on Newton’s face faded when he saw the look on Hermann’s. He sat down next to him on the bed. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked. “I’ll do it, dude.”

The gesture replaced the sickness in Hermann’s gut with a sense of gratitude. It wasn’t that much better a feeling, as a part of him almost wanted to cry at the offer. But he kept his emotions in check and, after brief consideration of the offer, shook his head. “No, I…I think I should go alone,” he said quietly. “It’s not that I don’t want your company, it’s just…probably for the best.”

Newton nodded. “Okay. Do you want me to look up tickets while you pack?”

“Yes, please.”

The next flight wouldn’t leave until that evening. That, at least, gave them time to have dinner together. They ate in silence, though at one point Newton reached over to rest his hand on Hermann’s knee. A comforting gesture, one Hermann allowed because it gave him some escape from the thoughts buzzing in his head. Newton was the one who drove Hermann to the airport as well, and walked with him all the way to the security entrance. “Just call me when you get there?” he asked. “And kick Lars’ ass extra hard for me.”

“I will. On both counts.” Newton hugged Hermann tightly; Hermann, for once not caring that they were in public, pressed his lips against Newt’s forehead. “Promise you won’t tear up the apartment while I’m away.”

“I can be trusted.” Newt gently bumped his forehead against Hermann’s. “Stay safe.”

“And you as well.”

He watched Newton leave. The loneliness and weight of what he was about to do began to sink in as he entered the line for security. He went through the motions of removing his shoes, standing in the metal detector, putting his shoes back on. Once he was out of the line and started towards his gate, he was quickly distracted from the emotion by a phone call. It was from Dietrich.

“ _Did you know?_ ”

It was the first thing to come out of Dietrich’s mouth when Hermann answered. “ _I didn’t._ ” Hermann was struggling with his suitcase, the phone, and keeping his cane tucked under his arm. It was a good thing he had plenty of time to reach the gate. He wasn’t going anywhere quickly at this rate. “ _I just found out this afternoon._ ”

“ _That_  saukerl.” Hermann could vividly picture Dietrich in that moment: pacing back and forth in whatever space he was in like a caged tiger, face contorted with frustration. “ _I can’t believe he’s been keeping this from us…_ ”

“ _I know._ ”

“ _Making Bas go through this alone…_ ”

“ _Dietrich, I know. I…_ ”

“Excuse me, sir?” An airport attendant approached Hermann. “Can I help you with your bag?”

“ _Hold on, Dietirch._ Ah, yes, please,” Hermann said, addressing her in English as he passed her his bag. “The gate’s not too far, thank you very much…”

“ _Wait, where are you?_ ”

_Oh, dear._ “ _I’m at the airport._ ”

“ _Don’t tell me you’re actually flying over._ ”

“ _As you said, it’s not fair that Bastien has to handle this alone._ ” Hermann glanced the attendant’s way, wondering if she spoke German and what she might think of the conversation even if she didn’t. “ _And I have several things to say to Father that really ought to be said in person._ ”

“ _Like that he can go…_ ”

“ _No, Dietrich._ ”

_“I’m not flying over.”_

_“I don’t expect you to.”_

_“If he wants me to know he’s dying, he can say it to me himself.” Dietrich’s voice was a low growl now. “Don’t make Bas be his messenger boy.”_

_“Just please don’t cause a fuss.”_

_“Why the hell not?”_

_“Because while I understand that you don’t like him, you have to think of Bastien and Mother.”_ Hermann nodded in the direction of his gate; the attendant returned the gesture. _“This is difficult enough for the both of them without someone causing a ruckus. You don’t have to come down, but for heaven’s sake, don’t...call and cause a scene.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Tell Bas I said ‘hello’.”_

_“I will.”_

Dietrich hung up with his usual abruptness.

They were at the gate now. “Thank you again,” said Hermann as he pocketed his phone and re-accepted his suitcase.

 “It was no problem. Is everything all right?”

Was his distress that obvious? “I’m fine. It’s, ah, a family emergency.”

The attendant nodded in a way that implied she’d seen incidents of this sort before. “I’m sorry about that. Well, I hope things are resolved.”

Hermann highly doubted it would be that simple, but smiled anyway. “Yes, I hope so as well.”

The gate was abandoned, more or less, so Hermann had his choice of seats in the waiting area. He was just sitting down when his phone rang again. He checked the caller ID. It was Karla. “Hello?”

“ _Did you know?_ ” she asked, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke.

Hermann sighed. “ _No,_ ” he said quietly. “ _I didn’t._ ”

 

**++++++++++**

 

He could still remember the first time he’d met Jacob Geiszler.

He was on the post-Pitfall lecture tour with Newton. They stopped in Berlin, briefly, and Jacob met them at the airport. Hermann’s first sight of him came when Newton abruptly ran off from Hermann’s side and embraced an older man with a hearty laugh and startlingly green eyes. Jacob had shaken Hermann’s hand warmly, smiled, and said it was an honor to finally meet the infamous Doctor Gottlieb. Hermann was a bit taken aback by him at first. Outside of Newton, he hadn’t met anyone so _sincere_ as Jacob.

Over the few days they were in Berlin, he slowly formed a picture of Jacob Geiszler’s character. It was clear where Newton had gotten his sense of humor from, as well as his smile and his laugh. Jacob was more reserved than his son, however, quieter, though that could have been the result of maturity. Whenever Hermann spoke, Jacob listened intently. Even if he didn’t fully understand what was being said, he made an effort, asked intelligent questions, and didn’t try to interrupt. It was clear, even in that short amount of time, that Newton adored his father. And Jacob was nothing but loving and supportive in return.

Hermann didn’t bother trying to lie to himself about it. Childish and futile as it was, he was jealous of Newton for having such a strong relationship with his father.

He really shouldn’t have been. Jacob Geiszler was also an incredibly perceptive man, especially when it concerned his son. In hindsight, Hermann realized that the man had quickly worked out the closeness of Hermann and Newton’s relationship and acted accordingly. Whatever kindness and attention he showed to Newton, he showed to Hermann in equal measure. Hermann mentioned this to Newton one night as they sat on the couch and watched some daft action film Newton had chosen. “Yeah, he probably unofficially adopted you the day you stepped off that plane with me,” Newton said with an apologetic smile. “He does that.”

“Why…”

“Because you’re Hermann, _mein lieber Freund_ , and that basically makes you part of the family.” He remembered Newton’s smile, and the way he nudged Hermann’s leg with one sock-clad foot. “You were an unofficial Geiszler even before we moved in here. It’s a high honor, you know. We’re a prestigious family of piano tuners and mad scientists.”

“Yes, lucky me.” Hermann rolled his eyes when he said it, but the sentiment was genuine. Being accepted by Jacob Geiszler had been entirely unexpected, but...nice. He would never go so far as to start calling Jacob “father”, but it was very nice to know that he had been accepted as a sort of family member.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments when Hermann's thoughts ran away from him, he wondered how much different his life would have been if he'd had a father like Jacob Geiszler--a flawed man, perhaps, but full of a love for his child that Hermann had never known himself.


	8. Chapter 8

It was strange, being back in Berlin. Newton had been born here, Hermann had gone to college here, and Bastien had moved here with his wife and children for his job at some prestigious bank or another. Now Hermann was back to see exactly how _damaged_ his father had become.

Brain cancer. _Brain cancer._ The very concept made Hermann’s blood run cold. There were many things he was sure he could bear, that he was sure his father could bear, but the idea of something attacking his strongest asset, his _mind_ , terrified him. This fear did little to dull the still-simmering anger Hermann felt at the fact that his father had _neglected to tell him._

He had to be picked up from the U-Bahn station by Johanna. She was a kind woman about a year younger than Bastien, with training in speech therapy and the ability to make almost anyone feel more at ease in her presence. This talent did little to soothe Hermann’s rebellious emotions. “ _I’m sorry that you had to find out this way,_ ” she said.

“ _It’s not your fault,_ ” said Herman. He kept his gaze fixed on the passing landscape. It was easier to keep his emotions under control that way. He didn’t want to see any sympathy on her face, not now. She spoke about how his nieces and nephews were doing; he listened, but did not contribute to the conversation much. Instead, he focused on separating and compartmentalizing his emotions. _To deal with later. To hide entirely._

He thought he had it under control by the time they reached Bastien’s house. As he greeted his brother and the children who were still at home (two had gone out to see friends), he was so sure that he had everything under control. Then Bastien spoke again: “His room is just down here.”

The fury returned in almost full force.

Hermann wrestled with it as they walked down the hall to the guest room. When he opened the door, Hermann caught sight of his father sitting up in bed, looking confused. “Hermann…?”

No, he didn’t have it under control.

Hermann stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. There was no need for the children to hear this, and he had the feeling things were going to get ugly _very_ quickly. “ _How dare you?_ ” he said in lieu of a greeting.

Lars did not reply.

“ _How_ dare _you?_ ” Hermann repeated, trying not to raise his voice and failing. “ _Did you ever plan on telling me? Or where you going to wait until you’d dropped dead and have Bastien tell me then?_ ”

“Hermann…”

“ _You have the_ nerve _to start calling me as though the past few years never happened and the_ audacity _to_ neglect to mention _that you might be_ dying?”

“ _Oh, please._ ” Lars pushed himself into a more upright position and scowled. “ _That’s Doctor Geiszler talking…_ ”

“ _Maybe_ Newton _is right about you._ ”

The room fell silent. Hermann finally took a good look at Lars. Judging by the layout of things, he spent a lot of time in that bed. It made sense. If the tumor was in his motor cortex, moving would be difficult. For a second, Hermann did feel some guilt for yelling at a bedridden man. Then he remembered the circumstances surrounding the trip and his guilt vanished. “ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ” he asked. Getting an answer out of Lars would be like pulling teeth, he knew, but he wasn’t leaving this room until he got the answer he was looking for.

“ _I didn’t think it mattered,_ ” Lars growled. He was trying, Hermann could tell, to take on that intimidating stance he’d used on Hermann so many times before—that he used on all his children, honestly. “ _I only wanted to talk to my son, not spend the entire time having someone else fret over me._ ”

The impulse was understandable, he supposed. But Hermann found it did little to soothe his anger. It felt like a weak excuse. “ _Were you_ ever _planning on telling me?_ ”

Lars didn’t answer. That told Hermann everything he needed to know. “ _Well._ ” Hermann straightened up. “ _You’ll just have to deal with someone else fussing over you, then._ ”

“ _So, you intend to stay?_ ”

“ _I do._ ”

“ _For how long?_ ”

_Until you get better,_ was Hermann’s first intended response. But he realized that his father getting _better_ might not be possible. “ _I don’t know,_ ” is what he ended up saying aloud. “ _But I won’t be leaving any time soon. And don’t think you can get rid of me this time. If you didn’t want me caring, you shouldn’t have called me in the first place._ ”

That ended the conversation, more or less.

Lars stayed in his room for the rest of the afternoon. Not having to see or speak to him was something of a relief. Hermann wasn’t sure he wanted to see or speak to _anyone,_ but he forced himself to smile and be polite to Bastien’s children. He had never spent any serious amount of time with his nieces and nephews. What little he knew about them was gleaned from the emails and phone conversations he had with Bastien. The youngest, a seven-year-old named Odette, seemed particularly interested in watching Hermann. “ _We’ve told her all about you,_ ” Bastien explained. “ _Her uncle who helped save the world._ ”

It struck Hermann how tired his brother looked, how completely worn-down. The three older children had a wary look to them. Even Johanna looked tired. “ _Are you both all right?_ ” Hermann asked quietly.

Bastien shrugged and idly smoothed down Odette’s hair. She sat in his lap and stared at Hermann intensely. “ _We make do,_ ” he said. “ _It’s just difficult to watch him…_ ” Bastien glanced down at Odette. “ _To see him so sick._ ”

Odette ignored the entire conversation and instead barreled ahead with a new one. “ _Did you ever see a Kaiju?_ ” she asked.

The eager innocence in her question was oddly refreshing. “ _Not a living one, not up close,_ ” said Hermann. “ _I did see a few dead ones. My friend, Newton, studied them._ ”

“ _Did he chop ‘em up?_ ” She bounced a bit on Bastien’s lap. “ _Fredrick said your friend chopped ‘em up._ ”

Hermann and Bastien exchanged glances—Hermann’s one of curiosity, Bastien’s of fond resignation. “ _He did,_ ” said Hermann. “ _He’s a biologist. He does a lot of chopping._ ”

Odette nodded. “ _Can he fix Grandfather?_ ”

Bastien immediately looked uncomfortable. “ _Odette, why don’t you go find Fredrick?_ ” He carefully put his daughter down. “ _Go talk to him, yes?_ ”

“ _But daddy…!_ ”

“ _Go. Go play. You can talk to your uncle later._ ” Odette left, though it was obvious she didn’t want to. Even when she was out of the room, Bastien switched to English: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Hermann examined his younger brother carefully. “Bastien, if I stayed, would that…”

“Hermann, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” said Hermann. “It’s not fair that you’ve had to handle this on your own. If there’s anything I can do, I want to do it.”

The look of relief on Bastien’s face spoke volumes. Still, he put up a weak protest. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing. You’re family.”

“What about Newt?”

“I’ll discuss it with him. Don’t worry about that.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Hermann nodded. “Yes, I’ll be all right.”

His younger brother slowly relaxed. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Like I said, we’ve been getting by, but he’s been…” Bastien glanced over Hermann’s shoulder in the direction of their father’s room, as though concerned Lars could hear them. “I’m not sure if he believes he _can_ get better.

Hermann had been afraid of that. “Well,” he said, “We’ll just have to see what we can do about that.”

Now, all that was left to do was call Newton.

“How are you holding up?” was the first thing Newton asked. “Did you smack him?”

“I did not smack him, but I did tell him I considered his behavior to be unacceptable,” Hermann replied. Hearing Newton’s voice took some of the weight off his shoulders.

“Atta boy. Bet that pissed him off.”

“As much as he _can_ be pissed off.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, he’s more or less bedridden at this point, so yes.”

“Oh.” Hermann could almost see the look on Newton’s face, that slightly blank look of someone trying to switch gears from _joking_ to _sensitive_. “Uh…that’s rough. How’s Bastien taking it?”

Well, that was one way to bring up the topic. “He’s tired,” said Hermann. “Actually, I was…I was hoping to stay with him for a while and help out.”

There was that weight again.

“Okay.” Newton, at least, was taking it well. From his tone of voice, you’d think Hermann had said he was going to go out shopping or take the day off. “How long?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “I should stay here, shouldn’t I?”

“Newton, I…”

“Dude, I know what I do to your dad. I’d just exacerbate the situation.” A hint of concern entered Newton’s voice. “I mean, unless you _want_ me to come over?”

Hermann sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s best for now…”

He had known saying it aloud would be difficult. He could, in theory, live without Newton for a few weeks. They’d done it before. But this time, his father was very ill and his family was on uncertain emotional grounds. Shocking as it might sound to an outsider, Newton was now the most stable thing in Hermann’s life. And he was on the other side of the ocean.

_Nothing to be done._

“Are you going to be okay?” Newt asked.

Hermann sighed. Already, he felt so weary. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We’ll see.”

 

**++++++++++**

 

As long as Hermann had known him, Newton had an anti-authority streak. Titles were not enough to gain his approval, and status didn’t matter to him. If any authority figure wanted his respect, they had to _earn_ it. Lars Gottlieb utterly failed in that respect.

It started when the two met in-person for the first time. Lars had called him “young man” and Newton had taken offense to this. At the time, Newton and Hermann had only been corresponding through email, so Newton’s response was more restrained.  _Does he do this to everyone, or am I just special?_ ran the letter. _Seriously, I’m twenty-six and pretty important to the program. Am I just being sensitive, or was that as uncalled for as I thought it was?_ Then, at the end of the letter, _P.S. You didn’t tell me your family was from Bavaria._

The accent would be a recurring element in Newton’s treatment of Lars Gottlieb.

This one instance aside, Newt more or less kept his opinions about Lars Gottlieb to himself when he started working with Hermann in Hong Kong. Then Lars left the program for the Wall of Life, quite visibly. All hell broke loose. The words _saukerl_ and _traitor_ were tossed around with alarming frequency; the accent was mocked with increasing regularity. Newton was also increasingly concerned with how Hermann was reacting to all of this. “Do _not_ let him walk all over you about this,” he’d said to Hermann one day. “He will try to drag you down with him. Don’t let him. You’re better than that. You’re better than _him_.”

That was an unexpected response, and probably one of the nicer things Newton had said to him in months.

After the War ended, and the two of them grew closer, Newton heard more and more about Hermann’s childhood. The more he heard, the more appalled he became with Lars Gottlieb as a person. He was unapologetically vocal about this disapproval on more than one occasion. Hermann knew that he really ought to be defending his father, but he didn’t.

In fact, more and more, he found himself agreeing with Newton.


	9. Chapter 9

For the first part of the week, Hermann focused on helping his father. The gesture was meant to give Bastien a break and allow him to focus on his work and his children. Hermann made sure father took his medication, that he was up and ready in time for his chemotherapy sessions, that he hadn’t spontaneously suffered from a seizure and died when no one was looking. Their conversations, when they occurred, were often terse. After the weeks of reasonably friendly phone conversations, the silence was shocking. Painful, even. It was almost as if those conversations had never occurred at all. Hermann tried to tell himself that his father was just embarrassed by the sickness and how it had affected him. He tried to tell himself that his father was ill, and couldn’t be expected to be cheerful or polite all the time. He reminded himself of how he had felt when he was bedridden after his accident. He tried to tell himself to be patient.

His patience had limits.

The location and severity of the tumor meant that Lars often had difficulty moving. It was either a walker or a wheelchair for Lars, depending on how bad he was feeling on that particular day. Lars viewed them both with equal disdain, and frequently attempted to walk on his own. The bruises on his arms and legs spoke to how well _those_ attempts went. Hermann had to talk him into using the walker, at least. “ _It’s more dignified than falling on your face in front of the doctor,_ ” he pointed out. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as strained as he thought it did.

“ _I’m not going to_ fall,” Lars snapped. His headaches had been worse today. It made him more irritable than ever. “ _I don’t_ need _this._ ”

“ _Father, you have_ cancer _. No one’s going to judge you for needing help._ ”

“ _I am not going to drag that thing around like I’m some sort of_ damned invalid! _”_

Hermann’s grip on his cane tightened as he stared incredulously at his father. He thought, for a second, he saw his father’s gaze drift to the object; he might have deluded himself into thinking that his father’s gaze grew less confrontational as he remembered that his son technically fell under the umbrella of a “damned invalid”. But he didn’t stay in the room long enough to find out if his father was, in fact, on the verge of admitting to have overstepped. He left.

“ _Where’s…?_ ” Johanna asked as Hermann walked past her.

“ _Probably still in the bed,_ ” Hermann said, trying his hardest not to snap at her. “ _Apparently, he’s too good to walk with assistance._ ”

Johanna didn’t ask any more questions. “ _Look, I can take him to the hospital myself,_ ” she said. “ _Why don’t you help mother look after the children? I promise, they’re better-behaved_.”

Hermann’s shoulders slumped slightly. “ _I think I can manage that,_ ” he said. “ _Thank you._ ”

The children were out back. The two older ones lounged on the lawn chairs; the eldest (Helen) read a book and the second-eldest (Gregory) played some handheld console Hermann wasn’t familiar with. Fredrick and Odette drew on the concrete walkway with chalk while Mother watched. She smiled up at Hermann as he joined them. “ _Good afternoon, dear,_ ” she said quietly.

“ _Good afternoon._ ” Hermann smiled back at her. The sight of his mother—always so quiet, but grown even quieter and more resigned since Hermann had seen her last—calmed him down. She always had that affect on him. “ _I was going to say that I’m here to help, but it looks like everything is settled here._ ” Odette looked up from her chalk drawing and beamed. Hermann smiled back. “ _Good afternoon, Odette.”_

“ _Why do you have to use that?_ ” Odette asked abruptly. The question might have come as a shock, if Hermann hadn’t spent well over a decade dealing with Newton Geiszler, holder of an unofficial phD in non sequiters. “ _Are you sick like Grandfather?_ ”

“ _Now, now, Odette…_ ” said Mother gently.

“ _No, it’s all right._ ” Hermann carefully sat down in one of the empty lawn chairs. “ _I’m not sick. I was in an accident when I was seventeen. I couldn’t walk properly afterwards, so I had to see a lot of doctors and use a cane._ ”

“ _Forever?_ ”

“ _Forever. It’s not that bad._ ”He examined the cane briefly. He’d been using it for so long that he barely noticed it anymore. It was as automatic to him as using his legs, or putting on his glasses when he needed to read. “ _It makes people think you’re older and important._ ”

“ _Does it have a sword in it?_ ” chimed in Fredrick.

Hermann chuckled. “ _No, it doesn’t have a sword._ ”

“ _You should get a sword one. That’d be cool._ ”

“ _I don’t know. Maybe one day._ ”

Hermann could hear the car pulling out of the driveway, taking Lars away to receive more treatment. He wondered, briefly, what his father would feel like when he got back. He probably wouldn’t find out in person. Hermann wasn’t sure he could speak to Lars for the rest of the day.

 

**++++++++++**

 

It was known in his family as _the incident,_ a neat, polite way of putting it. Hermann always called it _the accident,_ which was just as polite, but a bit less neat. He told himself that he was allowed that. He was the one who went through it, after all.

The other driver wasn’t drunk, just careless. Their driver wasn’t usually careless, and had only taken his eyes off the road for a second. Though there were other injuries in the car (broken bones, whiplash, concussions), Hermann received the worst injuries. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, pinned down by metal and screaming in pain. It felt like seconds and lifetimes all at once. Things didn’t improve much at the hospital. You could almost argue that things worsened from there.

First, there was the surgery to mend his leg and put the bone back under its skin where it belonged. Then, there was the surgery to fix his spine, when it became clear that _something_ had gone terribly wrong there. There was the weeks spent in a wheelchair, one leg in a cast, back still too warped out of shape to walk even if he hadn’t temporarily lost the use of his leg. He had to sit out the rest of the semester. He wept, several times, but never when Bastien or Father could see. Mother let him cry. Hermann hated crying in front of her, because she usually wept as well, but she also stroked his hair and told him how strong he was, how brave. He would have cried a great deal more often if it weren’t for her.

Eventually the cast came off, and his real struggle began. He would have to re-learn how to walk with his newly-repaired muscles and mended bones. His father found the best physical therapist in the area; that was just about the only supportive thing he did for the next several months. Where Mother told Hermann that he was strong and brave, Father only seemed to see weakness. _I know you can do better_ was his new mantra.

It was the first time in his life that Hermann felt serious hatred for Lars Gottlieb.

He was trying. He struggled every day he was in therapy. He dragged himself across railings and up stairs and did every exercise and stretch that they told him to. He did everything right. But any progress was only met with a curt nod and a _do better._

How could he be better? How could he, when his nervous system had been compromised and sometimes his leg hurt or went tingly, for no reason, or when he now couldn’t sleep in certain positions lest he wake up feeling like his spine was tearing free from his back? How could he move past something that wasn’t his fault, and something that was _physically impossible_ to move past entirely? Father wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted his old son, upright, perfect posture Hermann Gottlieb. He couldn’t be that person anymore.

He hated himself for it.

When he was told he would benefit from using a cane, Hermann resisted, at first. He tried to walk unaided for a bit longer before relenting. The cane improved his mobility, and it wasn’t long before Hermann weaponized it, metaphorically speaking. It said to Lars and everyone else that this was the new reality now. This was the way things were. If they had a problem with that, well, there wasn’t anything Hermann could do. There wasn’t anything _anyone_ could do. He’d done his best, he’d tried his hardest, but this was life now. If it was difficult for them to look at, it was at least twice as hard for Hermann to live it. _So don’t say a word._

Accepting the fact that his life had changed was, up until that point, the most rebellious thing Hermann had ever done.


	10. Chapter 10

A few more days passed. Everything seemed normal. Lars didn’t bring up the cane comment, in either explanation or apology. Hermann hadn’t expected him to, nor did he ask him to. If an apology was going to be made, it would be best if it came unprompted, and of his father’s own volition. Lars did seem to be more careful about his words after the incident, however. That was something.

Hermann spoke to Newton almost every night, sometimes over the phone, sometimes over video call. The conversations were usually brief, as nothing much was happening in Boston and Hermann preferred _not_ to talk about how things were going with him. Despite the brevity, the conversations were often the highlight of Hermann’s day. Not having to discuss cancer or his father was a relief; seeing someone smiling or hearing a laugh even more so.

Sometimes at night, Hermann closed his eyes and pretended Newt was lying on the bed next to him, chattering away about musical theory or something one of his students had said. It was a temporary solution—some mornings, it made things worse, waking up after such a fantasy only to find Newton was still in Boston. But for the night, it helped.

One week and two days after Hermann arrived, things took a turn for the worse. He’d been helping Bastien with breakfast for the children when he heard Mother’s voice from Lars’ room—“Liebe? _Liebe_?!”

Despite his cane, Hermann somehow managed to beat Bastien to the room. There was his father, lying on the floor, half-tangled in the covers, twitching, _oh, god, a seizure._ Hermann immediately pushed past Mother to make sure that Father had something under his head, that there was nothing near him that he could hurt himself on, _don’t die, please, don’t die, not here, not now…_ He’d seen this before. Jaeger pilots lying on the ground after a failed Drift, bodies tense, the room in a quiet panic, some people praying. For a moment, Hermann wasn’t sure if he was in his brother’s house or back at the Academy, watching and wondering what had gone wrong, what he could change in the programming that could fix this. Recognizing, slowly, that there might not be anything he could do.

The tremors subsided. As Father came out of his seizure, Hermann himself felt like he was being slowly lowered back into reality. He could hear mother crying outside the room, Bastien trying to console her, Johanna asking what had happened. Father was coughing weakly. For a second, he looked afraid. Hermann had never seen him look afraid.

“ _…mann? What happened? Should I call an ambulance?_ ”

Hermann shook his head. “ _No. No, it’d…it’d be faster if we drove him._ ” He saw Father go to protest and silenced him quickly: “ _You’ve had a_ seizure _. You need to see a doctor._ ”

Father didn’t fight it. Hermann would have preferred it if he had.

They were able to get Lars into his wheelchair, then the car, then to the hospital. Mother and Johanna stayed home with the children, who were varying shades of _confused_ and _alarmed._ Hermann had put himself into emotional shutdown. He couldn’t afford emotions right now, especially not emotions like _fear_ or _panic._ He could feel them coiling in his gut, struggling to get out and paralyze him, but he kept them under control for now. Later, when his father wasn’t at immediate risk, he’d set them loose. Now, he had to keep his head on straight.

The doctors examined Father. Hermann didn’t need them to tell him that things were taking a turn for the worse. He’d read up on brain tumors, both on the flight over and in the moments where he had time to himself but couldn’t call Newton just yet. Seizures weren’t a good sign to begin with, less so when the person in question had a brain tumor. “ _How bad is this?_ ” asked Bastien quietly. His voice shook. “ _What does this mean?_ ”

“ _It means things are getting worse,_ ” said Hermann wearily. He saw no reason to sugarcoat it. Bastien was a grown man, and he knew exactly what this meant. Hermann could see it in his eyes. The questions were just a sign of denial. He was hoping for an answer that signified everything would be all right. _I wish I could give you that, Bas._

Bastien nodded. “ _He’s…talked about ending it,_ ” he added quietly.

Hermann glanced at his younger brother in alarm. “ _How many…?_ ”

“ _Once or twice. Just mentions, but I think he meant it._ ”

It was news to Hermann, but it made sense. Knowing Lars, he would want to go out with dignity, not twitching on his bedroom floor, in the grips of a seizure, too weak to walk or even move himself from one side of the bed. It was an understandable impulse.

It still made Hermann feel sick.

The doctors decided that they wanted to keep Father at the hospital for now. He was asleep when Hermann and Bastien looked in to check on him. Hermann wasn’t sure he wanted to leave his Father there alone, especially not with the threat of his father beating cancer to its intended purpose looming over them. But the two of them went home eventually. Johanna and Mother had questions; Hermann answered them robotically.

It was late, very late, when he was finally able to text Newton and ask if he was awake enough for a video call. He was relieved to see that the answer was _yes._ Newt’s ridiculous sleeping habits worked in his favor, for once. “I’m surprised _you’re_ up, Mister Strict Schedule,” said Newt as he adjusted his laptop screen. Seeing him on the screen, sitting cross-legged on the bed in his boxers and some ridiculous sleep shirt, only made the feelings of panic and sorrow twist tightly around Hermann’s ribs. “You should be getting some shut-eye, unless…” Newt’s eyes widened. “Oh, god, something happened, didn’t it? Are you…”

“I’m…fine.” Hermann rubbed his eyes. “Father, uhm, had a seizure. We had to take him to the hospital.”

“ _Jesus._ ” Newt leaned a bit closer to his side of the screen. “I’m… _god_ , Hermann.”

There was a distinct look of discomfort on Newton’s face. It was that look of _I cannot think of words to properly convey my emotions, however, I am also incapable of physically comforting you._ That look used to be reserved for the early days of their relationship, when they were still trying to figure out the proper boundaries for physical contact. Now, it was distance that impeded them. Hermann smiled weakly. _I know, Newton, I know._ “I’m just tired,” he said. “It’s been a very long day.”

“No shit. Dude, do you want me to come over there? I can board a red eye or something, I’ll do it.”

“No, Newton, it’s…”

Hermann briefly fantasized about what it might be like if Newton did come down. Having someone there to hug him tightly and lie down on the bed with him and distract him with some ridiculous story of his days in the “most hipster piece of trash band to ever exist”…

Contemplating this was a mistake. The emotions threatened to constrict him to the point of breathlessness. Still, he forced himself to speak. “No, it’s all right. You stay in Boston.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Newt didn’t seem sure about this at all. “Is there _anything_ I can do?”

Hermann contemplated the question for a second. “Just…stay on the line?” he asked. He moved his laptop so it was on the bed next to him and lay down. “Talk to me?”

“Sure thing.” Newt made himself more comfortable. “So, uh…I overheard a philosophical argument on the bus.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was a couple of dudes, they had to be from Harvard or Emerson or something...I was just trying to get to the book store, and suddenly these two start fighting about Sarte, I swear to God, right in front of everyone…”

Newt told the story of the philosophical debate that had broken out on the bus. Hermann listened. The conversation lasted longer than the others, and at some point, he nodded off. When he woke up, the video call was still running, and Newton was there, curled up in front of his laptop, fast asleep.

It wasn’t as good as having him in person, but it was better than nothing.

 

**++++++++++**

 

“ _He was lovely before we married,_ ” Mother told him once. “ _Very sweet. Very gentlemanly._ ”

Hermann sometimes tried to picture that man.

Father must have loved Mother. He didn’t think this out of some desperate, childish need to have both his parents love each other. There was no other explanation Hermann could think of. There was no social, financial, or political benefit to marrying his mother. Astrid Zimmerman-Gottlieb was a lovely individual, beautiful and kind, but there was nothing to gain from being with her. Hermann knew that some might even consider her a mistake. Her _moods_ , as the family colloquialism was, had caused friction on more than one occasion. Father had to explain why Mother could no longer attend some function or another on more than one occasion. More often than not, his explanations were lies. _My wife was too numb to get out of bed this morning_ was not an explanation many people accepted.

The bitter part of Hermann suggested that Father only did so to protect himself and the family name. But he had stayed with her. That had to mean something—that he loved her now or loved her once and stayed out of respect for that.

Picturing his father truly loving anyone or anything should not have been difficult for Hermann to imagine. He should have been able to look at his parents and know that they loved each other. He did not. He wouldn’t call what he saw parasitic, not quite. Father’s presence, his desires and thoughts, simply overwhelmed Mother. They overwhelmed her just as they overwhelmed everyone else in the family. He did not see love there. He didn’t see much of anything.

When mother spoke as though there were love there, or that there had been once, Hermann listened, and tried to project that onto what he saw. He tried to imagine what their lives would be like if the man who courted and married his mother remained.

He gave up on that a long time ago. Some things weren’t worth contemplating.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, Hermann went to see his father in the hospital. The room fell completely silent the minute he shut the door. For a moment, he thought that Lars was sleeping again. “ _Father…?_ ”

His father, who looked so much weaker when he was in a hospital bed like this, stirred and lifted his head. “ _Hermann._ ” He sighed. “ _What brings you here?_ ”

 _I wanted to make sure you were still alive._ “ _I wanted to see you,_ ” he said aloud.

Lars grunted in response and tried to sit up. When Hermann stepped forward to help, Lars waved him away. “ _I’m still breathing, Hermann. There’s no need to be concerned._ ”

Hermann bit back a sarcastic comment about the fact that Lars had _cancer,_ that was _plenty_ of reason to be concerned, and sat down next to Lars’ bed. “ _Do you feel any better?_ ”

“ _My head is killing me._ ” Hermann frowned slightly in surprise—he hadn’t actually expected an answer. “ _How can you stand using that thing?”_

 _That thing,_ of course, was the cane. Hermann wasn’t sure how he felt about the question. Was this an attempt at reaching out? An apology? _Pretty fucking awful apology_ , said a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Newton. “ _I told myself that it was preferable to being dead or never talking again,_ ” he said. “ _I may be an invalid, but I still have my mind._ ”

Lars winced. Another unexpected response, one that indicated some chink in his armor. Hermann decided to press the advantage. “ _Would you have called me if you weren’t sick?_ ”

His father looked away. “ _I don’t see why that matters…_ ”

“ _You know why it matters._ ” The uncomfortable silence threatened to settle back in; Hermann pushed it away with more words. “ _I just want to know that you were calling because I’m your son and you care, not because you’re dying and you’re making some…misguided last-ditch effort at amending things._ ”

Lars sighed softly. “ _I…don’t know,_ ” he admitted gruffly. “ _I don’t know if I would have called._ ” An honest answer. Lars was full of surprises today. “ _Perhaps calling you was selfish of me, Hermann, but understand, I…I did wish to speak to you. Truly._ ”

Hermann glanced his father’s way. Lars Gottleib was many things, and Hermann was old enough to recognize that his past behavior definitely qualified for _manipulative._ But not like this. Never like this.

He wasn’t sure what to think.

Hermann’s phone started buzzing at him, sparing him from having to contemplate things any longer. “ _Excuse me._ ” He glanced at his phone briefly. It was a text from Bastien. “Oh…”

“ _What is it?_ ”

Hermann read the text a second time, to make sure that what he was reading was true. “ _Karla’s here,_ ” he said, surprised.

Not just Karla, as it turned out. When Hermann arrived home (Father had insisted he go check up on his sister, he’d be fine here, the nurses wouldn’t leave him alone for five minutes), he heard not just his sister’s quiet voice, but a deeper, more authoritative voice. _No. No it couldn’t be._ “D-“

Hermann was scooped up into a hug before he could finish the name. “Manni! Hello!”

It was Dietrich. Dietrich was _here,_ in Berlin. “Ah…hello?” Hermann awkwardly patted his brother on the back. “ _This is entirely unexpected._ ”

“ _Blame Karla, she talked me into it._ ” Dietrich was smiling as he pulled away—it was nice to see _someone_ was. “ _How are you holding up, little brother?_ ”

 _Well, Father had a seizure and I just found out he possibly wants to kill himself, also I’ve been grappling with the implications of the fact that he might be trying to mend the relationship and I’m not sure if I_ can _mend it_ , _all things considered._

“ _I’m fine,_ ” Hermann said aloud.

Dietrich wasn’t buying it. There was a look of understanding on his face, though Hermann got the feeling that Dietrich understood less than he thought. “ _Over a week dealing with the old man, I’m surprised you haven’t gone mad yet,_ ” he said quietly. No, Dietrich understood far less than he thought. “ _Come on, say hello to Karla. She didn’t believe that you’d flown over._ ”

Karla had cut her hair shorter since Hermann had seen her last. She had an odd look about her, somehow better and worse than last time. Better, he suspected, because the change of job and location had done her some good. Worse, because…well, their father was sick and the entire family wasn’t sure what to do. That was enough to put strain on anyone.

Still, she smiled when she saw him. “ _Good morning, Hermann._ ”

“ _Good morning, Karla._ ” Hermann returned the smile as he gave his sister a brief hug. She seemed surprised by the gesture. Hermann knew why; he hadn’t been much for hugging before Newton had barreled into his life. “ _How did you convince Dietrich to come over?_ ”

“ _Threats, primarily._ ” Hermann couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “ _It’s good to see you._ ”

“ _And you as well._ ”

He wasn’t just saying that for propriety’s sake. It _was_ good to see them, both of them. It was good to know that the both of them had come down to offer some support and taken the situation seriously enough to visit. But Hermann still couldn’t help feeling some trepidation, primarily when he looked at Dietrich. If Hermann’s relationship with his father was tense, Dietrich’s relationship with Lars was _explosive._ He wasn’t sure he wanted the two of them in the same room, not just for Father’s sake, but for everyone’s. Hermann even considered pulling his older brother aside and asking him to behave himself, _please_.

He refrained. He would keep an eye on the situation and see exactly how terse the situation was before he got involved. No sense in jumping the gun.

It took him only a few hours in Dietrich’s company to reconsider this decision.

“Is mother all right?” asked Dietrich. The children were in the other room, so they’d been trying to stick to English. It was a tactic that kept Odette and Frederick in the dark, at least, but Gregory and Helen were old enough to recognize what was going on. “Lars isn’t running her down too much, is he?”

Judging by the look on Karla’s face, she had seen this conversation coming. Bastien’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to figure out how to respond. Hermann stepped in: “She’s been spending more time with the children, actually. Bastien and I have been helping father.”

Dietrich flinched. “I am so sorry.”

“We’re coping,” said Bastien quickly. “He’s been temperamental, but he’s sick, it’s understandable…” Dietrich scoffed loudly. “I mean it!”

“When is he _not_ temperamental?”

“Dietrich…”

“Did he try calling you?” Dietrich asked abruptly. “I know he called me once, Karla said he called a few times.”

“He did call me,” Hermann said. He immediately regretted admitting this; Dietrich’s focus was entirely on him now. “We…spoke a few times.”

Dietrich looked confused. Hermann knew he had expected frustration or annoyance, a reaction of that ilk. It was one thing they could talk about, how rocky things were between their father and the two of them. Dietrich had his eruption and complete lack of contact afterwards; Hermann had his slow descent into disagreements and not-talking. But now it seemed that this shared experience was less shared than they thought.

_I have no idea how that happened either, Dietrich._

“You…actually spoke to him?” Dietrich said slowly.

“Yes?”

“…why?”

Hermann shrugged. He didn’t have an answer himself, or at least, not one he could articulate in words. And even if he could, he doubted the answer would satisfy Dietrich. “He was cordial, at any rate.” Hermann glanced at his brother. _Please drop the subject,_ he hoped the look said. _Please, drop it, I would rather not talk about it. I don’t want to start a fight._

Dietrich took the hint.

“I’m surprised Newt let you,” he said instead. “Where is he, anyway? Did you two get a hotel?”

“No, he’s back in Boston.” Hermann relaxed slightly. Crisis averted, for now, at least. “We thought it would be for the best. Someone has to watch the apartment and all.”

“Ah. Shame. I was looking forward to speaking to him more in person.” Dietrich took a sip of the glass of water in front of him. “Some other time, perhaps.”

“Yes, some other time. He would like that.”

Hermann felt he could handle another family gathering, as long as the circumstances were different.

 

**++++++++++**

 

The fights between Dietrich and Father began in earnest about halfway through Dietrich’s seventeenth year. There was some disagreement as to which university should attend—or, at least, that was how the arguments began. They began spiraling out of control from there. Hermann knew things had passed a point of no return when Dietrich stopped caring about whether or not Bastien was in the room. He’d take any opportunity to go for the throat. And Father responded in kind. He tended to shout less, but his words were so cutting he didn’t have to. Dietrich had a hammer; Lars had a finely-honed scalpel and encyclopedic knowledge of Dietrich’s weak points.

To this day, Hermann sometimes wondered if Dietrich announced he wasn’t going on to higher education just to make Father angry. If that was his intent, he certainly succeeded. It was one of the only times Father raised his voice. Hermann missed most of the argument; he’d been hiding in his room with Bastien, who was twelve at the time. He remembered hearing the enraged snarls of Dietrich’s voice, the assertive rumble of his father’s, the sound of footsteps, and a door slamming. When he and Bastien finally risked leaving the room, Dietrich was gone. He would return that night, pack up his things, and leave the house again, this time for good. It was a stressful day. Father was uncharacteristically angry. Mother sank further and further into herself. Hermann thought he heard her try to reason with Lars, but the situation could not be mended. Dietrich wasn’t coming back; even if he did, Father wouldn’t let him.

Karla’s departure from the Gottlieb household wasn’t quite so permanent or volatile. She planned to go to university, pre-medical. There was no explosive argument, no confrontation. But Karla was more than happy to leave the house. “ _It’s a relief,_ ” she said. “ _I just want to get out of here, you know?_ ”

Hermann knew. In fact, he felt similarly when he left for university. His freshman year roommate was homesick; Hermann the exact opposite. He’d never been happier to get away.

Deep down, however, he always knew he’d never be able to escape his family entirely.


	12. Chapter 12

Lars was in the hospital for three days. His situation did not improve. In fact, Hermann was sure his father’s health had worsened, though no one confirmed his for certain. The doctor looked very morose, and allowed Father to return home. _To let him die among his family,_ Hermann thought miserably.

It would probably have been better, for his own mental health, if Father had stayed in the hospital. The atmosphere grew tense the minute he stepped into the house—or, more accurately, was wheeled into the house. Dietrich’s entire demeanor changed. He became more withdrawn, and the anger seemed to simmer just on the surface of his eyes. Everyone gave him a wide berth. Karla became more nervous as well, and the stress returned to Bastien’s body language. Hermann tried to keep his chin up, but when Mother pulled him aside to speak to him, he knew he must not have been doing a good job. “ _I’m fine,_ ” he said quickly. “ _I’m just tired, don’t worry about…_ ”

“Hermann,” she said gently. “ _It’s all right. I know this is difficult, for all of us._ ”

There were tears in her eyes. For a second, Hermann felt guilty. He’d been so wrapped up in his own betrayal that he’d neglected to consider how his mother must be handling this. Just as Lars was still Hermann’s father, despite everything, Lars was still her husband, despite everything. “ _Mutter,_ ” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “ _You’re doing so well,_ ” she said gently. “ _I know this is difficult for you, and you’ve been so strong…_ ” The tears began falling, and she wiped them away shakily. “ _I’m glad you came._ ”

Hermann stepped forward and hugged her tightly. The embrace seemed to unlock whatever sorrow she’d been keeping hidden this entire time. He could hear her crying into his shoulder. Hermann had cried in front of his mother before, and he’d seen her cry several times. But this time felt different from the other times. The pain was sharper, harsher, and something he felt as well. And there was nothing he could do to help her out of it.

Dietrich went out for a walk later with a stormy look on his face. Hermann wasn’t sure why, at first. Then Johanna found him and said that Lars wanted to talk to him. Apparently, he’d already spoken to Mother and his siblings. That would definitely explain the look on Dietrich’s face. Hermann could only guess the conversation hadn’t gone well.

He tried to be calm about the matter, but Hermann’s stomach was in knots as he entered his father’s room. Father was still—so still, almost as though he’d passed on already. Only the rasp of his breathing let Hermann know that he was still there. Lars didn’t even bother trying to sit up. He just turned his head so he was facing Hermann. “ _Hermann. Sit down._ ” If he meant that as an order, it came across as weak, not authoritative. Hermann obeyed anyway. There was a chair by the bed already. “ _I don’t have to sugarcoat things with you. We both know that I won’t survive this._ ”

Hermann didn’t look at his father. He couldn’t, not when they were talking about this. “ _I know._ ”

Lars sighed softly. “ _I understand that you have other obligations,_ ” he said, “ _but you need to look after your mother. I’m not sure how she’s going to react to my departure. Bastien already said he would, but she’s always been fond of you. I’ve already spoken to someone about my will…_ ”

_No. No, I don’t want to hear about this._

“ _…spoken to Johanna about seeing to that after…_ ”

“ _Why are we doing this?_ ”

Father fell silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Hermann saw him look at Hermann quizzically. “ _You’re dying and we’re sitting here discussing business,_ ” Hermann said. His words were dangerously thick with emotion, emotion he normally wouldn’t let his father see. It didn’t seem to matter now. “ _Would it really be that difficult for you to act like a parent?_ ” The tears flooded his eyes, and he didn’t make any effort to stop him. “ _Just this once, can’t you be my_ father?”

He expected a dismissive or scathing remark about how these matters were important, more important than any emotion or sentiment. He expected Lars to just stop speaking until Hermann left. He did not expect Lars to shakily reach over a rest one of his hands on Hermann’s.

But that’s exactly what happened.

“ _You’re…a very smart man,_ ” Lars said slowly. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “ _And very brave. Stubborn, but that will serve you in life…_ ” The silence that followed seemed frustrated, as though he couldn’t think of what to say. “ _You know when not to back down, and that is admirable. You’ll be all right, Hermann. I…I can die at least knowing that you’ll be all right._ ”

The words pierced more sharply than they would have. They were marred by the frustration of things unsaid, things Lars didn’t have the words for, bridges that had long ago been burnt and abandoned. But they were sincere. Hermann knew they were sincere.

He didn’t sob. He didn’t even cry. The tears stayed in his eyes as he sat in that chair and held his father’s hand. They sat like that for some time.

It was the closest he’d felt to his father since he was a child. As depressing as that fact was, Hermann was still grateful for the moment.

 

**++++++++++**

 

“ _I want you on the Mark I programming team._ ”

Hermann stared blankly at his father. That wasn’t the response he’d expected. _Why have you been fiddling with my files,_ was what he’d expected, or something in the area of _how dare you make corrections to work done by programmers I picked out myself._ Part of him wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some kind of trap. “ _You…do?_ ” he said, confused.

“ _I do._ ” Lars settled back in his chair. “ _It’s clear you have an understanding of the problems we’ve been facing in programming the Jaegers. It’s also clear that you’ve come closer to finding solutions for those problems than anyone on the team so far._ ” Lars sounded annoyed, though shockingly, Hermann had the impression that the annoyance was directed at these unnamed programmers and not him. “ _You’re not quite there yet, but you’re onto something._ ”

_Am I being complimented?_ Hermann was fairly certain he was. “I…”

Honestly, Hermann had been interested in the Jaeger program for some time now.  He’d always had an interest in robotics, and as terrifyingly new and experimental as the field was, it was also fascinating. It wasn’t just new ground to cover, the kind of new ground Hermann thought he’d never see in his lifetime, but it was something important to the safety to the world. He couldn’t do anything directly about the Kaiju, that much was clear. Even if the Jaeger program took off as planned, Hermann doubted he had the physical attributes needed to pilot one. But this…this was something he could do. Something he would like doing. He thought he would have to volunteer and fight his way into the program. But now he was being offered a way in, by his _father,_ who was _expressing confidence in his abilities._

He was almost convinced he was dreaming.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “ _Yes. I’m…glad to hear you have faith in me, and…I would be happy to join the program._ ”

Lars nodded. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Hermann to say “no”. People rarely said no to him. “ _Good. You’ll start immediately. I have some of the programming with me._ ” He passed Hermann a data drive. “ _It’s been giving the team some trouble. See what you can do with it._ ”

“ _Yes, sir._ ” Hermann took the drive. Despite its small size, it felt very solid in his hands. It was a sign that this was real, that all of this was happening.

“ _See that you do. There’s a lot riding on this program, Hermann. You need to be at your best._ ”

“ _I will be, sir._ ”

Hermann was too intent on the data contained in that drive to react to the warning tone in his father’s voice and the implied _don’t let me down._ That didn’t matter to him. This mattered. This, at last, was something he could do _._


	13. Chapter 13

Hermann didn’t sleep well that night. He wasn’t terribly surprised to wake up the next morning and see that it was shockingly early. _Well, then._ He sat up and rubbed his eyes. No sense in trying to go back to sleep, and he was sure that Newton was asleep or busy. He would prefer to let his thoughts collect themselves, anyway. He was too jumbled to hold a real conversation.

_Maybe I should go for a walk._ His back was actually feeling all right, and the fresh air might do him some good. He was sorting out clean clothes when he heard footsteps in the hall—fast-moving, but obviously trying to stay quiet. Someone knocked on his door. When Hermann answered, Bastien was standing there, looking panicked. “Bas…?”

“ _Something’s wrong with Father._ ”

Hermann didn’t ask any more questions. He followed Bastien down the hall to Lars’ room. When Hermann stepped inside, he saw Lars lying on the bed, he heard his labored breathing, and he knew. He wasn’t sure, exactly, of what the symptoms of a morphine overdose were. But he knew that must be what was happening. “ _Do we call an ambulance?_ ” Bastien said. His voice shook with fear. “Hermann…?”

Bastien’s words seemed far away. Hermann was at his father’s beside without registering walking across the room. He knelt beside the bed and held his father’s hand as he had the evening before. Father’s eyes were half-shut, staring distantly at the opposing wall.  His fingertips had gone blue. When Hermann checked for a pulse, it was so weak he almost missed it.

_You weren’t going to let it take you, were you?_

“Hermann?!”

“ _Keep everyone away from the room._ ” Hermann was distantly aware of the sound of his own voice; he sounded shaky, afraid. “ _Don’t let them in, all right? Just…_ ”

“ _Hermann, what do we do?_ ”

“Keep them away from the room, Bastien.” Bastien didn’t protest after that. Hermann heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall; he thought he heard other voices, tired and confused and concerned, but he could only really focus on the sound of his father’s breathing. Every breath seemed to shake him apart. The entire situation seemed surreal, as though it were happening to someone else, far away from here, while Hermann observed like an omnipotent narrator…

He heard something, a faint sound that might have been a word or a name being spoke. Weak as it was, the noise jarred him back into reality more quickly than any shout or strong command would have. Father’s eyes were still half-closed, but he seemed to be looking at Hermann. “ _I’m here._ ” Hermann squeezed his father’s hand. He wanted to beg him to hold on, to please stay, but there was no point in it. “ _I’m here, Father._ ”

Lars made another quiet, mumbling noise. If he was trying to say something, it was unclear exactly what was being said. Was he calling for Hermann? Was he calling for someone else? “ _Father, I can’t hear you,_ ” said Hermann desperately. “ _I’m sorry, I can’t…_ ”

When Lars made the same noise again, Hermann leaned closer, trying desperately to hear what was being said. But it was too late. Lars stopped speaking. The sound of his breathing slowed. Hermann wanted to call his name, but he couldn’t make himself say it. He screamed it inside, _Father, please, don’t, Lars, just stay, we can fix this, we can figure it out, don’t go, don’t leave me._ But there was no point.

There was no slackening grip, no full closing of the eyes, none of the usual signs of someone’s passing. What Hermann experience was an absence—an absence of breathing, of light in his father’s eyes, of any movement or sound that provided proof of life. Lars was gone. His father was gone.

Hermann wasn’t sure how long he knelt by his father’s bed, still holding his hand. Eventually, Dietrich entered the room, saw the situation, and pulled Hermann away. The rest of the day passed in a blur. People wept. The children asked questions. No one was sure if they should call the police or the ambulance. Hermann drifted through it all, answered all questions asked to him robotically (though he couldn’t remember any of them within a few minutes of them being asked). He once again felt like the omnipotent narrator, dictating what happened while he watched from afar. His emotions were bottled up, shoved into a dark corner of his mind, ignored. They weren’t a part of the narrative. He couldn’t face them right now.

He didn’t eat. Or maybe he did, and it was just so meager and bland a meal that he forgot it once it was over. People stopped asking him questions at some point. At another point, someone took away Lars’ body. The sun began setting; he hadn’t even realized time had passed. It seemed like a few minutes between now and when he’d watched Lars…

Watched his father…

His mind snagged itself on the detail. Hermann found an isolated corner of the house and fumbled at the buttons on his phone. Newton answered after a few rings. “Hey, man. How are you holding up?”

Newton’s voice shoved his emotions back into the open and his mind back into his body. He wasn’t the narrator, he was the main character. All of this was happening to him again. He was overwhelmed, flooded with sorrow. It filled his ribs and trapped the words in his throat. “Hermann?” Newton started sounding concerned. “Hermann, dude, talk to me.”

“Can you come over?”

Hermann didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Newton what had happened. He could barely keep the emotions at bay long enough to speak; saying it aloud would break him entirely. But Newton knew. He must have known. He always knew things like this. “Yes,” said Newton immediately. “I can. I’ll be over there as soon as I can, I promise. Tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be there, I promise.”

“I know.” _Please, hurry,_ he wanted to say. But Newton had no control over the plane schedule, and he said he’d be there as soon as he could. Nothing to do but wait. “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. Just…stay safe, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

Soon couldn’t come fast enough.

After plans were made and the conversation ended, Hermann stayed in that corner of the room and pulled himself back together. He recollected his emotions, drained his chest, and left. He was able to distance himself again, though not as fully as before. The narrator felt the same ache as the character he lead around the house.

He fell asleep alone that night, but even the isolation was overshadowed by his desire for real, true silence.

 

**++++++++++**

 

Hermann remembered what it was like to think that his parents were invincible.

He remembered, when he was about five, he was told that the reason they didn’t have some things in the house or why Mother wasn’t allowed to do certain things was that Father was worried she would hurt herself. He remembered thinking how impossible that seemed. She couldn’t be hurt. He didn’t have a real reason why he thought that, he just knew it couldn’t happen. She was his mother. She couldn’t _be_ harmed.

About a year later, his normally healthy father contracted what was, as the doctor said, “One of the worst cases of food poisoning I’ve ever seen”. He had to spend time in the hospital. Bastien was afraid; Hermann remembered reassuring him that Father would be fine. Again, he had no real proof to back up his statements. He just knew that Father would be fine, because he was Father. How _couldn’t_ he be fine?

As Hermann got older, he put off such childish ideas. He came to realize, more and more, that the fact that they were his parents did not mean that they were immune. Even his father—a terrifying, but rock-solid constant—could fall.

 It was only a matter of time.


	14. Chapter 14

When Hermann woke up the next morning, he was disoriented. He’d slept so deeply the night before that he didn’t recall dreaming. It felt as though he’d slept through the entire day. But he hadn’t. It was the next day, the sun was up, it was about ten o’clock in the morning…

_Oh, no._

Hermann almost fell out of bed. Newton. He was supposed to meet Newton at the airport. He’d promised he would. It wasn’t that Newton couldn’t get around Germany by himself—he was fluent in the language, he could manage. It was the U-Bahn that might give him trouble. Unless he took a cab, he would _have_ to take it to get around the city. Newton hadn’t been comfortable in enclosed, crowded spaces since Hong Kong. He’d been to a therapist, and now on most days he was able to take the subway in Boston on his own. But this was an entirely unknown subway in a city he hadn’t seen in years. God only knew how he would react.

Hermann threw on the first clean outfit he could find. He started dialing Newt’s number as he made his way out of the room and to the door. “ _Bastien?_ ” he called as he headed towards the kitchen. “ _Bastien, may I borrow…_ ”

Newton was sitting at the table, eating toast.

Hermann froze. For a second, he thought he might be dreaming. Newton spotted him and immediately put down his toast. “Hermann…!” The hug Newton gave him was far too warm and protective to be a dream. Hermann returned it instinctively. “Hey, I’m sorry, I was able to get an earlier flight…” Newton stepped back a bit from the hug and cupped Hermann’s face in his hands. “I tried calling, but Karla said you were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up. Are you…?”

It felt like the vice around his chest had loosened slightly. “I’m not sure,” Hermann admitted quietly. “I am very glad you’re here.”

Newton smiled and rested his forehead against Hermann’s. “Glad to be here,” he said. “Shitty circumstances, but…I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

As Hermann pulled away from the embrace, he spotted Karla standing at the kitchen counter. She was quietly drinking from a mug, and had obviously seen everything that had just transpired. He hadn’t seen her there. Objectively, Hermann knew that he had nothing to be embarrassed of. But it was still an emotionally vulnerable moment on the heels of a loss, and it had been witnessed by his older sister.

_At least it wasn’t Dietrich?_

No, that wasn’t comforting.

Hermann cleared his throat and took another step back. Newton glanced back at Karla as though he’d forgotten she was there. “ _Riiiiight,_ ” he said, drawing the word out at least an extra syllable. “Uh…yeah, Karla gave me a ride. _Thanks, Karla._ ”

Karla raised her cup of coffee in a silent _you’re welcome._

“ _Yes, thank you, Karla._ ” Hermann tried not to look too embarrassed as he sat down at the kitchen table. Newt sat back down in his chair, mouthing a _sorry_ and wincing apologetically. Hermann shook his head slightly— _it’s all right._ “ _I didn’t mean to sleep in…_ ”

“ _You’ve had a rough week,_ ” said Karla. “ _I think you can be forgiven for sleeping in this once._ ”

A sense of something uncomfortable fell over the room. Newt kept eating his toast and took Hermann’s hand under the table. Hermann couldn’t protest. Having something solid to hold on to was a greater comfort now than ever.

Newt stayed close as the day went on, but still managed to win over all of Bastien’s children within the afternoon. He’d always been good with children and teenagers. Odette, in particular, kept asking questions about Newt’s tattoos. Hermann hadn’t heard him so intensely involved in an explanation of Kaiju since the war. “ _…Becket brothers took him down in 2017, I was fresh in the PPDC at the time…he was one of the first Kaiju I ever took a look at._ ”

“ _Is that why you got him drawn on you?_ ”

“ _Yup. There’s a reason for all of them._ ”

“ _People don’t think it’s weird?_ ” asked Gregory, who seemed more interested in the tattoos as an aesthetic rather than their subject matter. Bastien was going to have his hands full with that one.

Newt snorted. “ _Dude, people thought I was weird_ _before I got these. Ask your uncle, he knows._ ”

Gregory nodded. “ _Are you and Uncle Hermann a couple?_ ” he asked next.

Hermann really should have been that question coming. The look on Newt’s face said that he _had_ seen the question coming, but was still startled by it. “ _Uh…yes?_ ” Newt glanced at Hermann. “How okay is Bas with me giving his kids the weirdest version of the Talk they’re ever going to hear?”

Hermann was spared having to answer that by Dietrich and Mother’s re-entry to the house. Dietrich had a closed-off look to him, while Mother still dazed. She’d looked that way since yesterday. “ _…hey, Mrs. Gottlieb,_ ” said Newton quietly.

“ _Oh, hello, Newton._ ” The friendly tone to Mother’s voice sounded watered-down. “ _Hermann said you would be coming down, I just didn’t realize…_ ”

“ _I wanted to get down here as soon as I could._ ” Newton’s expression said he saw something in Mother that he didn’t like. He didn’t speak to Mother very often, but he was always very sensitive to her emotional state whenever he did. Hermann suspected it was because of Newt’s own past history with depression. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

Hermann expected mother to say she was all right. It’s what she had been saying for the past 24 hours. But instead, the dazed look in her eyes cracked slightly. “ _I…think I might need to lie down,_ ” she said quietly. “ _You boys can discuss matters without me. I’ll be all right._ ”

“ _Matters…?”_ Hermann asked.

“About Lars’ final arrangements,” said Dietrich, his tone level in a very deliberate way.

Silence threatened to fall over the room again. Before it could, Newton interjected. “ _Hey, uh, Greg, why don’t you grab the kids and take them out back and I’ll show you guys something really cool you can do with corn starch. You guys have corn starch, right? Of course you do._ ” He shooed the children in the direction of the door before turning his attention to Mother. “ _Do you need anything?_ ”

“ _No, dear, I’ll be all right. I just need the rest._ ”

“ _Okay, well, if you do…_ ” He glanced at Hermann next. “Herm…?”

“Don’t worry about me. Make sure the children are all right.”

Newton nodded and headed for the kitchen. Hermann heard him tell Bastien something about how he was going to show his children the wonders of non-Newtonian fluids, where do you guys keep the corn starch? But Dietrich spoke up before he could hear Bastien’s response. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

Hermann wasn’t sure why he bristled at that phrasing, but he did. He hid it behind an absentminded nod. _Don’t start a fight, Dietrich, please don’t start a fight._

After a few minutes, Bastien and Karla joined them in the kitchen. Both of them looked drained, Bastien more so than Karla. “Funeral arrangements?” Karla guessed as she sat down.

“He had it all planned out, more or less,” Dietrich said. “Son of a bitch _knew…_ ”

“Dietrich, he had an inoperable brain tumor. I’d have made arrangements, too.” Hermann couldn’t help sounding testy. Now, of all times, he had to start bringing this up again? “And don’t talk about him like that.”

“Why? Because we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead?” Dietrich was growing more and more agitated. “It’s not like he can hear me anymore, and even if he could…”

“Because now is _not_ the time for this.” Hermann’s grip on his cane tightened. “I know that you had a difficult relationship with Father, but the day after his death is _not_ the time to air those grievances.” Dietrich scoffed loudly. “For God’s sake, show some respect.”

“ _Respect?_ He made my life hell, he made _all our lives hell_.” Dietrich’s voice was less confrontational than Hermann expected, though his words were harsh. “He treated you like _deadweight_ after your accident! He almost threw Karla out of the house because she thought she was pregnant! And I’m pretty sure he ran a background check on Johanna when you started dating her, Bastien!” Bastien winced. “He did nothing but control us or disown us if we don’t do what he wanted us to! So _forgive me_ if I’m not exactly in tears just because he decided to end things himself!”

Hermann knew that Dietrich was right. In fact, he was getting the strangest sense of déjà vu. _I just had this argument, didn’t I?_ He had, with Newton, a few weeks ago. But back in those days, his father had been alive, had been using his energy to actually reach out and contact Hermann after months of not speaking, hadn’t looked Hermann in the eyes as he passed away…

“He was trying.” Hermann’s fingers were starting to ache. “He tried, with all of us, you just didn’t…”

“Don’t…don’t try to pin this on me!” Hermann thought he heard Dietrich’s voice turn defensive rather than angrier. “Why are you defending him? You, out of all of us?”

“I’m _not_ defending him, Dietrich. I am saying that I _know_ he wasn’t the best father in the world, but he was trying in the end, and I, for one, want to respect that.” Hermann wasn’t saying that out of some sense of duty, he realized; it was what he truly felt. This burst of certainty gave him the courage to keep speaking: “And terrible parenting skills or not, he was still our father, still Mother’s husband, and for God’s sake, she is _in the house._ ”

Dietrich had started pacing again. Every time Hermann caught a glimpse of his face, he saw how agitated his older brother was. “Please, Dietrich, sit down so we can talk about this. It’s…”

“You were his favorite, you know.”

The accusation caught Hermann off-guard. “ _What?_ ” he said, completely baffled. People said irrational things when they were upset, he knew, and Dietrich was very upset at this moment. But this went beyond irrational. “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t be stupid, Hermann. You were. You _always_ were.” Dietrich’s eyes looked dry, but there was an unmistakable thickness to his voice. “He may have tried with you, but he didn’t…” No, there were tears there. “He didn’t care about me. Only fair I return the favor, eh?” His attempt at a laugh fell utterly flat. It was painful to hear. Hermann had never seen his brother like this. “I have to go.”

“Dietrich…”

“ _Don’t._ ”

No one tried to stop Dietrich from leaving after that.

The remaining three Gottlieb children sat in silence for a moment. Dietrich was the one who knew what the funeral arrangements had been; they didn’t know what to do. Hermann most of all. His thoughts were all in a jumble. He couldn’t straighten them out, not like this, not in this house. “…Bastien, I need some time…tell Newton I’ve gone out, please?”

“…ja.” Bastien sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There was no one they could blame, and that made things all the more difficult. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, don’t wait for me on anything.” He wasn’t going to be much help with funeral arrangements or anything else at this point anyway. He had nothing to contribute.

Hermann could hear the children laughing at something in the back yard as he left the house. At least they were sheltered from this. Had Father been involved in their lives? What was their grandfather to them? An absent figure, the subject of whispered stories and not much else? An object of fear or dread? He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Hermann made his way back into the city and found the nearest U-Bahn stop. He boarded the train (his usual muscle memory of taking the train in Boston somewhat disrupted by the familiar-yet-unfamiliar Berlin system) and found a reasonably isolated seat. He had no intention of getting off until he’d worked things out. He doubted anyone would notice. No matter what the city, the rules where the same: as long as they’re not bothering you or dying, don’t ask questions. _Maybe don’t even ask questions on that second one,_ chimed in the suspiciously Newtonian voice in his head. Not even that comment could get a smile out of him.

Up until this moment, he had been largely ignoring his emotions. Hermann knew this. He was also aware that it wasn’t the _healthiest_ coping mechanism in the world, but it was the only option he had that didn’t involve breaking down among his family. Now, alone as he was on the train, he could finally start to sort through them. There was pain, yes. Sorrow. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was a sense of bitterness or confusion tainting his pain and sorrow. He had meant what he said to Dietrich; he really had believed that Father had been trying in the last weeks of his life. For all the mistakes he’d made in the past, and the mistakes he’d made recently, Lars Gottlieb had been trying. Hermann was willing to give him credit for that. Some people might say it was forgiveness offered too easily, but the man was dead. What good was there in holding a grudge? Hermann found this line of thinking perfectly reasonable.

Dietrich, clearly, had considered these efforts too little, too late. His relationship with Father had arguably been worse than Hermann’s. For all the rough spots, moments of resentment, and extended stretches of time they avoided each other like Kaiju Blue infested waters, Hermann didn’t feel the same all-encompassing sense of _hate_ Dietrich had felt for their father. Hate that seemed to have been replaced by confusion and frustration in these past few weeks.

Hermann could only speculate. He was not Dietrich. But if he had to guess, based on the way his older brother had acted today, Dietrich had felt that Father hadn’t tried _hard enough_. He had, perhaps, wanted to be able to attend Father’s funeral and mourn him properly and behave as a son who’d just lost his father should. But he couldn’t. The anger was still there, still eating away at any good memories or willingness to forgive that might have still existed in Dietrich.

This, too, was reasonable, considering their relationship.

The dissonance brought on by finding both trains of thought reasonable only jumbled his thoughts further. This wasn’t something he could sort through in one train ride. So he stayed on the train. People came and went; Hermann barely noticed. He set his thoughts and emotions aside again and started running through a Fibonacci sequence in his head. When he fumbled the sequence, he switched to the digits of pi. When he couldn’t remember the next digit, he switched to the Breach predictive model. Then an estimation of the distance between each stop. Eventually, his back began to ache from sitting so long. He took that as his cue to leave. When he got off the train, the sun had set. The city was still bustling, as cities were wont to do. Hermann walked for a while longer, before realizing that his compromised physiology would not allow him to go much further. He had to take a cab home. The house was quiet when he arrived. The children were all asleep or in their rooms, the adults either off to bed themselves or sitting somberly in the kitchen with a glass of wine if their name happened to be Karla. “ _Dietrich never came back,_ ” she told him.

Hermann wasn’t surprised.

Newton had fallen asleep on the couch. That didn’t surprise him, either. Newton had a bad habit of not sleeping when left unattended. Between that and the jetlag, it was a miracle he hadn’t been more tired earlier. Hermann paused to straighten Newton’s blankets before going off to bed himself. If he could sleep the same way he did last night, perhaps he’d be able to think more clearly in the morning.

He did not sleep the same way he did last night. When he woke up again, he felt like he’d taken at least four shots without water or food the night before. It was also two in the morning. He actually growled a few choice curses at the sight of the clock. _Newton would be proud of those,_ he thought idly as he lay back down and tried to go back to sleep.

It quickly became obvious that he would not be sleeping any time soon. His back was protesting the previous day’s extended train time, and his thoughts had decided now would be a good time to re-assert themselves and start swarming around his mind. Hermann now understood why Newton considered _bees_ a perfectly reasonable metaphor for his emotions. It had never been apt to his life before now. Hermann sat back up and attempted to stretch. It felt like his vertebrae were glued together. The nerves pinched and misfired; the muscles didn’t sit right. _Damn my body, damn it._ To compound everything, he knew his medication was in the rest room, not the room he’d borrowed from Gregory.

_Damn everything._

He dragged himself to the bathroom and swallowed the pills dry. It would be some time before they worked, but it was better than nothing. On his way back to his bedroom, he thought he heard something in the living room—the creak of sofa springs, perhaps. When he changed direction and walked into the living room, he found that it was Newton, sprawled out onto the couch and trying to make himself comfortable while he fiddled with his tablet. “Newt…?”

Newton glanced up immediately, but took a bit longer to respond. “Back pain?” he guessed. Hermann sighed and nodded. He didn’t have to ask how Newton knew, but his partner supplied the answer anyway: “You’re standing funny and I think I was getting sympathy aches. Do you…?”

“I already took my medication. It’s fine.”

“Oh. Good.” Newton sat up and set aside the tablet. “Uh…what was up with Dietrich? I heard he was pissed.”

When Hermann didn’t answer right away, Newton immediately looked like he was re-considering his words. “I mean…if you don’t want to talk about it, I get that, I was just…”

“You don’t have to sleep out here, you know,” Hermann said quietly.

Newton knew what he really meant— _I don’t want to be alone right now._ “I mean, this is a pretty nice couch and all, but given the option…” Newton stood. “I didn’t want to wake you up, otherwise I would’ve joined you sooner.”

Hermann attempted a smile.”And since when did you become so considerate?”

“ _Please._ ” Newton’s smile easier and more genuine. “I am the best, most considerate life partner you could ask for. Not that life partners of my ilk are a common occurrence or anything, really my competition isn’t that much, so…”

“Newton.”

“Okay, okay, coming to bed.”

Hermann doubted either one of them would be sleeping any time soon. Newton was clearly wide awake, and Hermann’s body still ached too much for sleep. He had hoped that they could at least lie there in silence. That didn’t happen. They got settled, they had about a minute of silence. Then Newton’s consideration became something of a hindrance again. “Are you okay?” he asked.

_Of all the questions you could have asked me, you had to ask the one I don’t have an answer to._ Several potential answers ran through Hermann’s head. He discarded several for being too biting, others for being flat-out lies, and a few for being too honest. What he settled on, ultimately, was, “I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a satisfactory answer for either of them. Newton would want more answers, and Hermann found the answer to be too revealing about his mental state. But it was all he had to offer.

“…do you want to talk about it?”

_What good will talking about it do? I already tried to piece through it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know._

“Dietrich felt that I was being too forgiving of Father,” he explained. “I told him that I felt Father’s attempts at making amends in his final weeks meant that some respect was owed, but he wasn’t having any of that. And I understand why. I just…”

“Also don’t understand why?” Newton guessed.

“Yes.” A pause. “Maybe.” Hermann rubbed his eyes. “I understand his frustration, but I find it confusing. I don’t know why he has to be so confrontational about Father the day after he…” _Died._ Hermann still couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. “I know they had a tumultuous relationship, but so did Father and I, and I don’t feel that way at all.”

Newton rolled over so he was facing Hermann. Hermann expected Newton to start pointing out that Dietrich _had_ a point, Lars was kind of a dick. “Are you confused because Dietrich doesn’t agree with you,” Newton said instead, “or because you don’t agree with Dietrich?”

“Wh-“ Hermann frowned. He wanted to tell Newton that he wasn’t making any sense, but it did make sense. He had spent the entire afternoon and evening trying to work out why Dietrich didn’t feel the same way he did, but that answer was obvious. What didn’t make sense to him, really, was…

Was why he didn’t feel the same way Dietrich did.

“…do you think I’m forgiving him too easily?”

Newton didn’t answer. Hermann couldn’t quite see him in the dark, but he could tell that Newt was either carefully weighing his words or biting his tongue because he knew his biased opinion against Lars Gottlieb would only mar the discourse. Either way, Hermann kept speaking: “I know he was a terrible parent, I know that I have every right to be angry with him, but I’m not. I can’t…I can’t make myself be angry with him. If I could just _hate_ him…” What would that be like, being able to just hate his father and move on? To not be bogged down in justifying his forgiveness and trying to sort through Father’s last actions? If he could feel relief that he was gone instead of this sense of emptiness and regret (regret for _what_ he had no idea, he just knew it was there), then maybe he wouldn’t feel so confused. He wanted to feel that way.

“He was…controlling, temperamental, uncaring or else just oblivious, and…he was my father. And I can’t hate him.” Hermann realized that the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with the pain in his back, and the blurriness in his eyes had nothing to do with the low lighting. When he spoke again, his voice broke: “I should hate him. I want to hate him. _Why can’t I…_ ”

The first sob consumed whatever thought he had been about to express. He tried to stifle it with his hand, but it was too late. The tears were coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop crying. Newton made a startled, almost frightened noise before wrapping his arms around Hermann as best he could. “Hey, hey…” Hermann allowed himself to be embraced, rolled over so that his face was pressed against Newton’s shoulder. “Easy, easy, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”

Newton’s babbling didn’t do much to stop Hermann’s tears. But the sound of his voice, the smell of his shirt, the knowledge that he was here and that Hermann wasn’t utterly alone, was the only comfort he had. Crying didn’t feel cathartic. It felt painful. It felt like opening himself up and letting all the uncertainty, frustration, and grief of the past few weeks spill out. Like removing a tumor, straightening out a twisted spine, lancing the infected wound and letting it drain. Objectively, you knew that it was a healing act, but in the moment, all you knew was that you were coming undone. Nothing felt worse than that.

“I’ve got you. I’m here. Hey…”

“Why did he have to call me?” Hermann choked out.

“I don’t know. He was trying…this was going to suck no matter what, man, I just…I don’t know.” Even though his own pain felt so all-consuming, Hermann could hear the stress and concern in Newton’s voice. He'd never been good with crying people. “I’m here, okay?”

“I’m sorry…”

“No. No, don’t apologize to me. This isn’t your fault. There’s nothing wrong with this. I have cried so much more than this, okay? Just get it out.” Newt rubbed Hermann’s shoulders as he spoke. “I know it sucks, I know. I’m sorry.”

Until that point, Hermann thought he was starting to wind down. But then the tears returned in full force. His brain seemed to have decided to make up for yesterday’s lack of crying. It was a stunningly unfair decision.

If anything good came out of all that crying, it was that it wore Hermann out enough that he could fall back asleep. When he woke up the next morning, his face felt salty, Newt was still holding him, and his head hurt. He wasn’t sure what time it was. It didn’t seem to matter.

He tried to tell himself that at least now he knew how he felt. But that hardly seemed like consolation.

**++++++++++**

There was a Gottlieb family plot in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Hermann had been there a few times. He had never known his grandparents (one of them having died of heart complications, the other in an accident); Father didn’t talk about them. All he knew of them was what was written on their graves. Gregory Gottlieb, Father, Husband, Son. Edna Schmidt – Gottlieb, Mother, Wife, Daughter. It wasn’t much to go on.

There was space there for Mother, and for Hermann, unless he chose to be buried elsewhere. And there was space there for Father. Dietrich had pointed it out during one visit.  “ _Right there. That’s where he’ll go one day._ ”

Hermann thought about that empty spot for the rest of the day. In his mind, it was like that patch of earth was watching him, waiting for the day when his father would go in the ground.

 Objectively, Hermann knew that the chances of his father outliving him were unlikely. Deep down, even as his relationship with his father grew more strained, Hermann knew he hoped the day of his father’s death would never come. He wasn’t sure what he would do when that patch of earth opened up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt's subway-related anxiety is something I want to explore in another fic. I probably will. Just rest assured that it was a healing process and he was taking the bus for a while there.


	15. Chapter 15

Father was buried a few days later. Dietrich came to the funeral, though he stayed in the background. He didn’t speak. He didn’t throw any dirt on the grave. He left early. He didn’t say goodbye.

Hermann was asked to say a few words at the wake. He almost declined. What could he say? The tumultuous nature of their relationship meant that there weren’t many good memories to speak of. But no one else was going to say anything, so the duty fell to him. Needless to say, Hermann turned down Newton’s offer to help write the speech. Not that he didn’t trust Newton, but there were certain biases that couldn’t be overcome. Regardless, this was something Hermann had to do on his own.

When the time came, Hermann stood before a small collective of his extended family, father’s side, and spoke: “ _There are times, I must admit, when I feel as though I did not know my father. He was…an enigma, to me, from the time I was a child to the weeks before his death. In many ways, he remains a mystery to me._ ” He couldn’t meet the eyes of anyone in the room, not even Newton’s. “ _There is not much I can say about him. I cannot express his motivations for some of his actions, tell you that he fulfilled the grand plan of his life, or give answers to the questions I’m sure many in this room have._ ” He thought he saw his siblings glance at him. “ _There is one thing I can say, with some certainty. Lars Gottlieb…my father…_ ” He swallowed. “ _Wanted me to understand. Even if his attempts to reach out came late, he did try. Father was not the kind of man who reached out, usually, so…I believe this is significant._ ” He finally looked up. “ _I believe this was a sincere effort, and I cannot fault him for that._ ”

Nothing else could be said.

He returned home with Newton a few days after that, when he was sure that everything was settled with his family. They both slept for most of the plane ride back. They did not discuss the events of the past few weeks directly, though it expressed itself in subtle ways. Usually, there was some sort of mutual agreement or invitation to share one of the beds in this apartment; for two weeks after the funeral, Hermann slept in Newt’s room every night. There was no previous discussion, just an understanding that he needed the company. Newton didn’t ask about anything, didn’t ask if Hermann was all right. But he was more considerate than usual, more careful with his words. He went out of his way to bring home movies, play the piano, discuss academic journals, little things to distract Hermann. Hermann appreciated the gestures, he did, but he resented them at the same time. He resented that Newt had to make them. He resented that they couldn’t just go back to the way things were before.

_Why can’t I hate him?_

One month after the funeral, Newton finally said something about it. In a typical Newton Geiszler fashion, he said it over Chinese takeout, while they were watching one of the many science fiction movies they’d missed during the war. “You know, my mom could be dead right now and I’d never know,” he said casually.

Hermann glanced up at Newton in surprise. Newton rarely discussed Monica Schwartz. Hermann hadn’t even learned that she was Newton’s mother until after they Drifted. “I…suppose?” he said, unsure of where Newt was going with this.

Newton shrugged. “It  sucks,” he said as he poked his box of noodles. “I mean, I’m not exactly her biggest fan or anything, don’t get me wrong. But the fact that I literally don’t know anything about where she is or if she’s alive or…if she cares? That sucks. At least…” He glanced at Hermann and quickly glanced away. “At least you know.”

“That he’s dead or that he cares?”

“Both.” Newton shrugged. “Did I botch that up? I was trying to be comforting, I thought…”

Hermann shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” Honestly, he hadn’t considered that before. These past few months had been difficult, that much was true. But would it have been any better to have found out the day his father died? As much as those phone calls had confused and changed so much about his relationship with his father, would not having those have been a good thing? Would not hearing those words— _You’ll be all right, Hermann_ —have made things easier?

He wasn’t sure it would.

The movie kept playing. A police car drove past the apartment. Newton sat with his knee almost touching Hermann’s. Despite the somber feeling still etched into his heart, things were shockingly normal. He was all right. Father hadn’t been wrong about that.

“You’re right,” Hermann said finally. “At least I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think some thanks are in order.
> 
> First, thanks to the moderator of the Pacific Rim Minibang, for starting all of this and putting things together so well.
> 
> Second, thanks to my artist, RP partner, and BFF Ronnie. Their portrayal of Hermann was a big influence on how I wrote him here, and they were also willing to listen to me ramble about this fic AND provide helpful plot input. Their art for the fic, which is AMAZING, can be found [here](http://rritchiearts.tumblr.com/post/87446541776/the-illustrations-i-did-for-the-pacific-rim).
> 
> Third, thanks to all of my other friends, especially Melissa and Blue, who had to listen to me ramble about this the entire time I wrote it. Maybe now that this is over I'll stop starting conversations with "I just made myself really sad" (LOL not likely).
> 
> Finally, thanks to you, for reading this entire fic. It's a bit of a beast, far longer than I meant it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it. :3
> 
> As a final note, this fanfic is named after the Brave Saint Saturn song "Always Just Beneath the Dawn", which was on my playlist when I was writing this fic. Brave Saint Saturn is awesome and you should totally listen to all their stuff.


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